And then there did not seem to be anything to say between them for a long while. The half-breed had settled down with stolid indifference. People had resumed their newspapers and magazines and day dreams after the fleeting excitement. It was very warm. Louise tried to create a little breeze by flicking her somewhat begrimed handkerchief in front of her face. Gordon took a newspaper from his pocket, folded it and fanned her gently. He was not used to the little graces of life, perhaps, but he did this well. An honest man and a kindly never goes far wrong in any direction. “You must not think, Miss Dale,” he said, seriously, “that it is all bad up here. I am only selfish. I have been harping on my own little corner of wickedness all the while. It is a good land. It will be better before long.” “When?” asked Louise. “When we convict Jesse Black and when our Indian neighbors get over their mania for divorce,” he answered, laughing softly. Louise laughed merrily and so the journey ended as it had begun, with a laugh and a jest. In the Judge’s runabout, Louise held out her hand. “I’m almost homesick,” she cried, smiling. CHAPTER IX THE ATTACK ON THE LAZY S It was late. The August night was cool and sweet after a weary day of intense heat. The door was thrown wide open. It was good to feel the night air creeping into the stifling room. There was no light within; and without, nothing but the brilliant stars in the quiet, brooding sky. Williston was sitting just within the doorway. Mary, her hands clasped idly around her knees, sat on the doorstep, thoughtfully staring out into the still darkness. There was a stir. “Bedtime, little girl,” said Williston. “Just a minute more, daddy. Must we have a light? Think how the mosquitoes will swarm. Let’s go to bed in the dark.” “We will shut the door and next Summer, little girl, you shall have your screens. I promise you that, always providing, of course, Jesse Black leaves us alone.” Had it not been so dark, Mary could have seen the wistful smile on the thin, scholarly face. But though she could not see it, she knew it was there. There had been fairer hopes and more generous promises in the past few years. They had all gone the dreary way of impotent striving, of bitter disappointment. There was little need of light for Mary to read her father’s thoughts.