Helen had heard where his homestead was. Indeed, Festing had told her that if he had known Charnock was coming to Donaldson's farm, he would have located farther off. She would sooner have avoided the meeting, but since it had happened, she must not cut it too short.
“But what is the handkerchief for?” she asked. “And why were you lying there?”
“It's a signal of distress. Another trail crosses the rise a mile off, and I was waiting in the hope that somebody might come along.”
Helen now noted that a wheel of the wagon leaned to one side, and he remarked her glance.
“The patent bush has got loose in the hub,” he resumed. “I took the pin out and then saw I might have trouble if the wheel came off. It has been threatening to play this trick for some time.”
“Then why didn't you put the bush right before you started?”
“I don't know. I expect you think it's typical.”
Helen laughed. Bob was taking the proper line, and she studied him with curiosity. He looked older than she thought, but remembering Festing's hints, she did not see the mark of dissipation she had expected. Indeed, Charnock, having spent a sober month or two under Sadie's strict supervision, looked very well. His face was brown, his eyes twinkled, and his figure was athletic. He did not seem to need her pity, but she felt compassionate. After all, she had loved him and he had married a girl from a bar.
“But where were you taking the plow?” she asked.
“To the smith's; one of the free preemptors has a forge some distance off, and if I'm lucky, I may find him at home.”