When he had finished milking he glanced in at the open door of the tool house. Dick lay where Roger had left him, staring with eyes of feverish agony at the roof above his head. Roger, without a word, went back to the plant. To his relief, Felicia appeared at the breakfast table, very hungry and quite herself. But Charley was not able to get up. It seemed as if the long years of strain had culminated in yesterday's events, and that Charley had no will-power left. The girl lay on Ernest's cot, the tent flap lifted beside her, with no apparent desire save to stare at the desert dancing in heat waves against the sky. What thoughts were passing behind those quiet brown eyes, no one knew. It was mid-morning when Roger went in to see her. He pulled a box up beside the cot. "Well, old dear," he said. "How is the head?" Charley smiled. "Sore and aching, but better than during the night. I am so tired and that's very unusual. I'm always so strong." Roger nodded. "It was a bad knock, to leave you senseless for half an hour. I suspect you ought to take pretty good care of yourself for several days. I've been talking with Elsa and she thinks you ought to stay here for a few days. And I do too. Don't worry about Dick. I saw him this morning and he'll be himself by sundown. And I've promised Elsa I won't see him again until after she does." Charley eyed Roger's long brown face as if taking in the full significance of all he had said. Then she gave a little sigh of relief. "If I could rest here in this peaceful tent, just for a day or two." "The tent's all right at night, but I've moved Gustav's cot into the engine house, and I'm going to help you over there. It's ten degrees cooler than here. Elsa and Felicia are established there and I won't disturb you for I'm drawing, which act is noiseless." In a dim corner of the adobe engine house in Gustav's cot Charley spent the day. Elsa, when she was not playing housekeeper sat beside her with her sewing and Felicia visited between the cot and Roger's drawing board. Once when Charley seemed to be in an uneasy sleep, Felicia asked Roger, "Is Charley very sick?" "Not really sick at all, chicken. She's just tired. She's worked too hard for you and Dick." Felicia stared at him with her innocent, speculative gaze so like Charley's, yet so unlike. "Can't we live here with you, instead of up at the ranch, Roger? I know Charley would like it better." "You can stay and make us a visit, anyhow. Then we'll see."