Even when he spoke face to face with a man, he never seemed to be giving more than half his attention, for might not someone else approach if he lost himself in order to listen to any one voice? He had covered half the length of the room with that soundless step before she heard, and rose with a glad cry: "Pierre!" Meeting that calm blue eye, she checked herself mightily. "A hard ride?" she asked. "Nothing much." He took the rock nearest the fire and then raised a glance of inquiry. "I got cold," she said, "and rolled it over." He considered her and then the rock, not with suspicion, but as if he held the matter in abeyance for further consideration; a hunted man and a hunter must keep an eye for little things, must carry an armed hand and an armed heart even among friends. As for Jacqueline, her color had risen, and she leaned hurriedly over a pan in which meat was frying. "Any results?" she asked. "Some." She waited, knowing that the story would come at length. He added after a moment: "Strange how careless some people get to be." "Yes?" she queried. "Yes." Another pause, during which he casually drummed his fingers on his knee. She saw that he must receive more encouragement before he would tell, and she gave it, smiling to herself. Women are old in certain ways of understanding in which men remain children forever. "I suppose we're still broke, Pierre?" "Broke? Well, not entirely. I got some results." "Good." "As a matter of fact, it was a pretty fair haul. Watch that meat, Jack; I think it's burning." It was hardly beginning to cook, but she turned it obediently and hid another slow smile. Rising, she passed behind his chair, and pretended to busy herself with something near the wall. This was the environment and attitude which would make him talk most freely, she knew. "Speaking of careless men," said Pierre, "I could tell you a yarn, Jack." She stood close behind him and made about his unconscious head a gesture of caress, the overflow of an infinite tenderness. "I'd sure like to hear it, Pierre." "Well, it was like this: I knew a fellow who started on the range with a small stock of cattle. He wasn't a very good worker, and he didn't understand cattle any too well, so he didn't prosper for quite a while. Then his affairs took a sudden turn for the better; his herd began to increase. Nobody understood the reason, though a good many suspected, but one man fell onto the reason: our friend was simply running in a few doggies on the side, and he'd arranged a very ingenious way of changing the brands." "Pierre--" "Well?" "What does 'ingenious' mean?" "Why, I should say it means 'skillful, clever,' and it carries with it the connotation of 'novel.'" "It carries the con-conno--what's that word, Pierre?" "I'm going to get some books for you, Jack, and we'll do a bit of reading on the side, shall we?" "I'd love that!" He turned and looked up to her sharply. He said: "Sometimes, Jack, you talk just like a girl."