The child, her deep eyes glowing like black rubies in the flickering light, the lovely curves of her mouth drooping, leaned against Roger's shoulder, for a little while, then she turned and looked up into his face for a long minute. Roger returned the look, a little wonderingly. Felicia's attractiveness still puzzled him. "I love you very much," she said, "more than I do Ernest." Roger smiled down at her. "But you must love our old Ernest too, even if he has deserted us." "Oh, I do love him, but it's you I think about, last thing at night!" Felicia gazed up at Roger with a look of such mysterious depth that he caught his breath. Felicia suddenly shivered. "The desert's awful big! Oh, why do you suppose Charley didn't meet me? I want Charley," with a sob. Roger jumped to his feet and brought another blanket from the wagon. He spread it before the fire and urged Felicia to lie down on it. This she was persuaded to do only after Roger loaned his lap for a pillow and she finally fell asleep, her head on his knee, his hand clasped against her cheek. Another hour slipped by. Cramped and cold, Roger tossed an occasional branch in the fire with his free hand and speculated with uneasiness for Ernest, as to the nature of the faint sounds that came from the eastward. He decided that coyotes must be in the vicinity and he drew the blanket close over Felicia's shoulders. He was strangely unlonely. The desert silence and space about him, the low-lying stars, the faint cloud of mountain range were not alien to him. They all were the setting for the work toward which his whole life had moved. He knew too little of the desert really to be fearful for Ernest, whose return he expected any moment. He dozed a little. A sudden sound of hoof-beats roused him. A man jumped from his horse on the opposite side of the fire. He was a stocky fellow, wearing blue overalls and a red sweater. Before he had given Roger more than a quick "Hello!" another horse came up and a woman alighted. Roger laid Felicia's head on the blanket and clambered stiffly to his feet. The young woman gave Roger a quick glance, then ran toward the sleeping child. "Felicia! Baby Felicia!" she cried. "Did you think Charley had deserted you?" Felicia sat up with a jerk. "Charley!" she screamed. "Charley! I knew you'd come!" "Hello, Roger Moore!" exclaimed the stocky young man. "Are you the same young plutocrat who used to own a swimming pool?" Roger laughed. "The same, except that I'm no longer a plutocrat. How did you recognize me?" "Oh, we met Ernest Wolf meandering about the desert. Hello, baby, do you remember brother?" kissing Felicia, who was in Charley's arms. Charley was tall, nearly as tall as Roger, and he noticed as he turned to shake hands with her that she held the child easily, as if she were very strong. Then he was looking into eyes that suddenly seemed deeply familiar.