she lowered herself stiffly. As she did so she took fuller notice
of the man, and found his appearance reassuring.

"I suppose you wonder how I--happen to be here," she said.

"Now don't talk 'til you're rested, miss. This coffee is strong
enough to walk on its hands, and I reckon about two cups of it'll
rastle you into shape." As she raised the tin mug to her lips he
waved a hand and smiled. "Drink hearty!" He set a plate of bread
and bacon in her lap, then opened a glass jar of jam. "Here's the
dulces. I've got a sort of sweet tooth in my head. I reckon you'll
have to make out with this, 'cause I rode in too late to rustle
any fresh meat, and the delivery-wagon won't be 'round before
morning." So saying, he withdrew to the fire.

The woman ate and drank slowly. She was too tired to be hungry,
and meanwhile the young man squatted upon his heels and watched
her through the smoke from a husk cigarette. It was perhaps
fortunate for her peace of mind that she could not correctly
interpret his expression, for had she been able to do so she would
have realized something of the turmoil into which her presence had
thrown him. He was accustomed to meeting men in unexpected places-
-even in the desert's isolation--but to have a night camp in the
chaparral invaded by a young and unescorted woman, to have a foot-
sore goddess stumble out of the dark and collapse into his arms,
was a unique experience and one calculated to disturb a person of
his solitary habits.

"Have you had your supper?" she finally inquired.