She was hot and uncomfortable, conscious that the blood was still in her face, when she heard him scramble to his feet and walk to the back of the wagon. Ever after Dr. Harpe remembered him as she saw him first framed in the white canvas opening of the prairie schooner. His unusually high-crowned Stetson was pushed to the back of his head, one slender, aristocratic hand rested carelessly upon his hip, a fallen lock of straight, black hair hung nearly to his eyebrows--eyebrows which all but met above a pair of narrow, brilliant eyes. The aquiline nose, the creamy, colorless complexion, the long face with its thin, slightly drooping lips was unmistakably foreign in its type while a loose, silk neck scarf containing the bright colors of the Roman stripe added an alien touch. There was at once high breeding and reckless _diablerie_ in his handsome face. In the antagonistic moment in which they eyed each other, Dr. Harpe endeavored to recall the something or somebody which his appearance suggested. She groped for it in the dim gallery of youthful memories. What was it? It flashed upon her with the suddenness of a forgotten word. She remembered it plainly now--that treasured, highly colored lithograph of a brigand holding up a coach in a mountain pass! There was in this face the same mocking deviltry; his figure had the same lithe grace; he needed only the big hoop earrings to complete the resemblance. He removed his hat with a long, sweeping gesture and bowed in exaggerated deference. "At your service," he murmured. "There was no need----" she began in a kind of apology. "Fifty dollars is little enough to pay for the privilege of your skill, madam. Shall it be in advance? Of course; in advance." She threw out her hand in a gesture of protest, which he ignored. "Permit me at least to show you that we have it here. I feel sure that you can work with a freer mind if I count it out and lay it where you can see it." He took an odd, foreign purse from the belt of his "chaps" and she noted that it sagged with the weight of its contents. "Gold," he explained; "nearly new from the Mint. You can have it tested at the bank before you begin--acids or something of the sort, I believe." She crimsoned with anger, but he went on-- "Fifty dollars! What a very little sum to start the milk of human kindness flowing!" "I told him he needn't mind--there was no rush--just when it was convenient. He misunderstood me." She found her tongue at last and lied glibly. The child's foster-father stared at her as though he doubted his own ears. Her very audacity left him speechless. "There you are, $50 in gold!" He flung the money into her lap. "Old hoss," he laid his hand upon the man's shoulder while his mocking laugh again made her cheeks tingle, "you oughtn't to lie to me like that."