he pondered this and that, but mostly the sense of the nearness of a woman. Like most desert men, Tappan knew little of the other sex. A few that he might have been drawn to went out of his wandering life as quickly as they had entered it. This Madge Beam took possession of his thoughts. An evidence of Tappan's preoccupation was the fact that he burned his first batch of biscuits. And Tappan felt proud of his culinar y ability. He was on his knees, mixing more flour and water, when the woman spoke from right behind him.
"Tough luck you burned the first pan," she said. "But it's a good turn for your burro. That shore is a burro. Biggest I ever saw."
She picked up the burned biscuits and tossed them over to Jenet. Then she came back to Tappan's side, rather embarrassingly close.
"Tappan, I know how I'll eat, so I ought to ask you to let me help," she said, with a laugh.
"No, I don't need any," replied Tappan. "You sit down on my roll of beddin' there. Must be tired, aren't you?"
"Not so very," she returned. "That is I'm not tired of ridin'." She spoke the second part of this reply in lower tone.
Tappan looked up from his task. The woman had washed her face, brushed her hair, and had put on a skirt--a singularly attractive change. Tappan thought her younger. She was the handsomest woman he had ever seen. The look of her made him clumsy. What eyes she had! They looked through him. Tappan returned to his task, wondering if he was right in his surmise that she wanted to be friendly.
"Jake an' I drove a bunch of cattle to Maricopa," she volunteered. "We sold 'em, an' Jake gambled away most of the money. I couldn't get what I wanted."
"Too bad! So you're ranchers. Once thought I'd like that. Fact is, down there at Globe a few weeks ago I came near buyin' some rancher out an' tryin' the game."
"You did?" Her query had a low, quick eagerness that somehow thrilled Tappan. But he did not look up.
"I'm a wanderer. I'd never do on a ranch:" "But if you had a woman?" Her laugh was subtle and gay.
"A woman! For me? Oh, Lord, no!" ejaculated Tappan, in confusion.
"Why not? Are you a woman hater?"
"I can't say that," replied Tappan, soberly. "It's just--I guess--no woman would have me."
"Faint heart never won fair lady."
Tappan had no reply for that. He surely was making a mess of the second pan of biscuit dough. Manifestly the woman saw this, for with a laugh she plumped down on her knees in front of Tappan, and rolled her sleeves up over shapely brown arms.
"Poor man! Shore you need a woman. Let me show you," she said, and put her hands right down upon Tappan's. The touch gave him a strange thrill. He had to pull his hands away, and as he wiped them with his scarf he looked at her. He seemed compelled to look. She was close to him now, smiling in good nature, a little scornful of man's encroachment upon the house-wifely duties of a woman. A subtle something emanated fro m her--a more than kindness or gayety. Tappan grasped that it was just the woman of her. And it was going to his head.
"Very well, let's see you show me," he replied, as he rose to his feet.
Just then the brother Jake strolled over, and he had a rather amused and derisive eye for his sister.
"Wal, Tappan, she's not overfond of work, but I reckon she can cook," he said.
Tappan felt greatly relieved at the approach of this brother. And he fell into conversation with him, telling something of his prospecting since leaving Globe, and listening to the man's cattle talk. By and by the woman called, "Come an' get it!" Then they sat down to eat, and, as usual with hungry wayfarers, they did not talk much until appetite was satisfied. Afterward, before the camp fire, they began to talk again, Jake being the most discursive. Tappan conceived the idea that the rancher was rather curious about him, and perhaps wanted to sell his ranch. The woman seemed more thoughtful, with her wide black eyes on the fire.
"Tappan, what way you travelin'?" finally inquired