"He hasn't given out any official opinion yet, but he's impressed. The report will be favorable, I think." "Isn't that good?" "Couldn't be better," he admitted. It was a warm day. Joyce glanced in at the soda fountain and said demurely, "My, but it's hot! Won't you come in and have an ice-cream soda on me?" Dave flushed. "If you'll go as my guest," he said stiffly. "How good of you to invite me!" she accepted, laughing, but with a tint of warmer color in her cheeks. Rhythmically she moved beside him to a little table in the corner of the drug-store. "I own stock in the Jackpot. You've got to give an accounting to me. Have you found a market yet?" "The whole Southwest will be our market as soon as we can reach it." "And when will that be?" she asked. "I'm having some hauled to relieve the glut. The railroad will be operating inside of six weeks. We'll keep Number Three capped till then and go on drilling in other locations. Burns is spudding in a new well to-day." The clerk took their order and departed. They were quite alone, not within hearing of anybody. Joyce took her fear by the throat and plunged in. "You mad at me, Mr. Sanders?" she asked jauntily. "You know I'm not." "How do I know it?" she asked innocently. "You say as little to me as you can, and get away from me as quick as you can. Yesterday, for instance, you'd hardly say 'Good-morning.'" "I didn't mean to be rude. I was busy." Dave felt acutely uncomfortable. "I'm sorry if I didn't seem sociable." "So was Mr. Hart busy, but he had time to stop and say a pleasant word." The brown eyes challenged their vis-à-vis steadily. The young man found nothing to say. He could not explain that he had not lingered because he was giving Bob a chance to see her alone, nor could he tell her that he felt it better for his peace of mind to keep away from her as much as possible. "I'm not in the habit of inviting young men to invite me to take a soda, Mr. Sanders," she went on. "This is my first offense. I never did it before, and I never expect to again.... I do hope the new well will come in a good one." The last sentence was for the benefit of the clerk returning with the ice-cream. "Looks good," said Dave, playing up. "Smut's showing, and you know that's a first-class sign." "Bob said it was expected in to-day or to-morrow.... I asked you because I've something to say to you, something I think one of your friends ought to say, and--and I'm going to do it," she concluded in a voice modulated just to reach him. The clerk had left the glasses and the check. He was back at the fountain polishing the counter. Sanders waited in silence. He had learned to let the burden of conversation rest on his opponent, and he knew that Joyce just now was in that class. She hesitated, uncertain of her opening. Then, "You're disappointing your friends, Mr. Sanders," she said lightly.