A meadow lark, troubadour of spring, trilled joyously somewhere in the pines above. The man looked up, then down at the vivid creature busy with her flowers at his feet. There was kinship between the two. She, too, was athrob with the joy note of spring.
“You're to sit down,” she ordered, without looking up from the sheaf of anemone blossoms she was arranging.
He sank down beside her, aware vaguely of something new and poignant in his life.
CHAPTER V — JED BRISCOE TAKES A HAND
Suddenly a footfall, and a voice:
“Hello, Arlie! I been looking for you everywhere.”
The Texan's gaze took in a slim dark man, goodlooking after a fashion, but with dissipation written on the rather sullen face.
“Well, you've found me,” the girl answered coolly.
“Yes, I've found you,” the man answered, with a steady, watchful eye on the Texan.