Meanwhile Mr. Derwent and Robert Nixon, threading their way among the waiting knots of sightseers, approached the spot where the above conversation was taking place. Mr. Derwent was first to perceive the pair. “See there, Robert,” he said, with his crisp, short manner of speech. “I think we’ve seen only one head that matches the Yellowstone?” His nephew followed the direction of the other’s fixed gaze. “Well, I’ll—be—” he began, “if there isn’t Brute, fussing our heaver.” Mr. Derwent laid a restraining hand on the arm of his companion, who made an instant move in his friend’s direction. “Not a bit of it,” replied Robert, close to his uncle’s ear. “It’s up to us to rescue her. She isn’t _his_ heaver.” “She doesn’t look as if she wished to be rescued,” remarked Mr. Derwent; and the concern in his face moved his irreverent nephew to merriment. “You see Hebe isn’t a goddess, after all,” he remarked into the rubber device which hung about his uncle’s neck. “Just a nice, every-day heaver; and her hair’s caught Brute. Let’s go and see.” Mr. Derwent’s face was impassive as he followed. The childlike eyes and the modest demeanor of the pretty waitress had greatly attracted him. He was sorry to find her like this. Bruce sprang to his feet as they approached. He read mischief in Robert’s eyes, and his own were unresponsive. Robert nodded and grinned cheerfully at Rosalie before Irving could get possession of what Robert termed his uncle’s rubber ear. Then he said with a distinctness intended to awe and repress Nixie, “I have found an old friend, Mr. Derwent. A young lady whose home is where we go in summer. Let me present you to Miss Vincent.” Robert reconstructed his countenance as well as he could, and Mr. Derwent’s face cleared as he raised his hat. “Mr. Nixon, Miss Vincent,” went on Irving severely. “I have waited on these gentlemen,” said the girl, looking at Mr. Derwent. “You deserted our stage this morning,” he answered, and deliberately dropped upon the grass beside Rosalie, while she explained, blushing, how she had been hurried on early because of the crowds. “Pooh!” said Robert aside to Irving. “Old friend of yours?” He snapped his fingers. “Piffle! Likewise gammon. She’s fed us for two days.” “I’m glad to hear it,” responded Irving stiffly. “Otherwise I couldn’t quite understand your greeting of her as you came up.” Robert laughed unrestrainedly. “Just got off with my skin, eh?” “She’s all alone out here,” said Irving, flushing under the sincerity of his friend’s merriment, but continuing to scowl. “She is, eh?” returned Nixie. “Then all I have to say is she must be the author of that spooky declaration, ‘I’m never less alone than when alone.’ See there,” motioning with his head toward an advancing group of women, “there come the rest of us. We can’t lose ’em.” CHAPTER XI FACE TO FACE