Adam went toward the house, which was mostly concealed by vines and oaks, and presently happened upon a scene that seldom gladdened the eyes of a desert wanderer. On a green plot under the trees several children stopped their play to stare at Adam, and one ran to the open door. There were white pigeons flying about the roof, and gray rabbits in the grass, and ducks wading in the brook. Adam heard the cackle of hens and the bray of a burro. A column of blue smoke lazily rose upward from a gray, adobe, fire-blackened oven.
Before Adam got to the door a woman appeared there, with the child at her skirts. She was middle-aged and stout, evidently a hard-working rancher’s wife. She had a brown face, rather serious, but kind, Adam thought. And he looked keenly, because he was now getting into the civilized country that he expected would become Genie’s home.
“Good evening, ma’am!” he said. “Will you let me camp out there by the oaks?”
“How d’ye do, stranger,” she replied. “Yes, you’re welcome. But you’re only a mile or so from Santa Ysabel. There’s a good inn.”
“Time enough to go there to-morrow or next day,” replied Adam. “You see, ma’am, I’m not alone. I’ve a young girl with me. We’re from the desert. And I want her to have some—some decent clothes before I take her where there are people.”
The woman laughed pleasantly.
“Your daughter?” she asked, with interest.
“No relation,” replied Adam. “I—I was a friend of her mother, who died out on the desert.”
“Stranger, you’re welcome to my house overnight.”
“Thank you, but I’d rather not trouble you. We’ll be very comfortable. It’s a nice place to camp.”