That Aaron King had won the approval of the Ranger was evidenced by the mountaineer's inviting himself to supper the camp in the sycamores. The fact that the officer considerately told Conrad Lagrange only that he had met the artist with his creel full of trout, and so had been tempted to accompany him, won the enduring gratitude of the young man. Thus the circumstances of their meeting introduced each to the other, with recommendations of peculiar value, and marked the beginning of a genuine and lasting friendship. But, while, out of delicate regard for the artist's feelings, he refrained from relating the--to the young man--embarrassing incident, Brian Oakley could not resist making, at every opportunity, sly references to their meeting--for the painter's benefit and his own amusement. Thus it happened that, after supper, as they sat with their pipes, the talk turned upon Sibyl Andrés and the woman with the disfigured face. The Ranger, to tease the artist, had remarked casually,--after complimenting them upon the location of their camp,--"And you've got some mighty nice neighbors, less than a mile above too." "Neighbors!" ejaculated Conrad Lagrange--in a tone that left no doubt as to his sentiment in the matter. The others laughed; while the officer said, "Oh, I know how _you_ feel! You think you don't want anybody poaching on your preserves. You're up here in the hills to get away from people, and all that. But you don't need to be uneasy. You won't even see these folks--unless you sneak up on them." He stole a look at the artist, and chuckled maliciously as the painter covertly shook his fist at him. "You may _hear_ them though." "Which would probably be as bad," retorted the novelist, gruffly. "Oh, I don't know!" returned the other. "You might be able to stand it. I don't reckon you would object to a little music now and then, would you?--_real_ music, I mean." "So our neighbors are musical, are they?" The novelist seemed slightly interested. "Sibyl Andrés is the most accomplished violinist I have ever heard," said the Ranger. "And I haven't always lived in these mountains, you know. As for Myra Willard--well--she taught Sibyl--though she doesn't pretend to equal her now." Conrad Lagrange was interested, now, in earnest He turned to the artist, eagerly--but with caution--"Do you suppose it could be our neighbors in the orange grove, Aaron?" Brian Oakley watched them with quiet amusement. "I know it is," returned the artist. "You know it is!" ejaculated the other. "Sure--I heard the violin this afternoon. While I was fishing," he added hastily, when the Ranger laughed. The novelist commented savagely, "Seems to me you're mighty careful about keeping your news to yourself!" This brought another burst of merriment from the mountaineer.