She heard him pass out of the door. She was alone. Absolutely she welcomed the sound of his foot again. He might have seen her face almost light up. "When you git kicked on a bone," he said, "it hurts worse. She's swelled up some, but I reckon she'll get well in a few days or weeks. I don't think she's busted much, though at first I thought he'd knocked the knee cap plump off. There's a cut in above there. Cork of the shoe must of hit me there." The gravity of her face was her answer. She could see nothing. "I reckon you can smell that whiskey," said he, "but I ain't drunk none--it's just on my leg, that's all." "You're not a drinking man?" she asked. "Why, yes, of course I am. All of us people out here drinks more or less when they can git it--this is a dry state. But I allow I'll cut it out fer a while, now, ma'am." "Ain't you hungry now, ma'am?" he added. "We didn't have a bite to eat all day." "Yes," said she. "But how can I help cook supper--what can I do?" "There ain't much you need to do, ma'am. If I've lived here alone all this time, and lived alone everywhere else fer thirty-seven years, I reckon I can cook one more meal." "For your housekeeper!" she said, smiling bitterly. "Well, yes," he replied. "You don't know where things is yet. I got some bacon here, and aigs too. I brought out some oranges from town--fer you." She did not see him color shyly. Oranges were something Sim Gage never had brought to his ranch before. He had bought them of the Park commissary at the station. "Then I got some canned tomatoes--they're always good with bacon. Out under my straw pile I got some potatoes that ain't froze so very bad anyways, and you know spuds is always good. I didn't bring no more flour, because I had plenty. I can make all sorts of bread, ma'am--flapjacks, or biscuits, or even sour dough--even dough-gods. I ain't so strong when it comes to making the kind of bread you put in the oven." "Why, I can make that--I know I can do that!" she said, pleased at the thought. "We'll start in on that to-morrow," said he. "I'll just cook you one meal--as bad as I can, ma'am--so as to show you how bad I needed a housekeeper out here." The chuckle in his tones was contagious, so that she almost laughed herself. "All right," said she. She heard him bustling around here and there, rattling pans, stumbling over sticks of wood on the floor. "Haven't you any chickens?" she asked. "No, ma'am, I ain't got around to it. I was a-going to have some." "I'd like awfully well to have some chickens. Those little yellow things, in my hands----" "We can get plenty, ma'am. I can drive out just a leetle ways, about forty miles, to where the Mormons is at, and I can get plenty of 'em, even them yeller ones." "Where is the dog? Haven't you got a dog?" "No, ma'am, I ain't. The wolves got mine last winter, and I ain't got round to getting another one yet. What kind would you like?" "Why, a collie--aren't they nice?"