She hastened to meet Stamford in the sitting-room, a strange constraint in her manner. While she nervously set about laying the table, he occupied himself with Imp. He wondered what she had to say to him that required so much courage.
"I'm afraid you'll find time hang heavily on your hands here."
She was leaning across to straighten a corner of the tablecloth, and he could not see her face.
"I'm not afraid of that," he replied, giving Imp a poke.
"We've—we've never had visitors before." A flush stole softly into her cheeks. "You've selected the last ranch to suit your purpose—though it's healthy enough, I suppose. The Double Bar-O now—there are young people there. And the Circle-Arrow further east."
Apparently he was busy poking Imp's fat sides, but beneath his brows he glanced at her again and again as she spoke. For some sudden reason she did not wish him to stay. That suspicion determined his course.
"In five days," he declared, "there have been no premonitory twinges of lonesomeness. And if, with only three of us on the ranch for three days——"
"Only three? What do you mean?"
"Bean Slade, cookie, and I—that was all."
"Weren't—— Where were Dakota and the others?"