“What is your wife like?” demanded Mary Temple unfeelingly. “Why, Mary Temple! What an impertinent question!” cried Charmian. “Impertinent or not,” barked Mary, “I want to know what his wife is like before I give my consent.” Morley only laughed and showed no resentment. “Why, she’s a pretty good old girl,” he told her. “She’s a good housewife, not bad looking, a good dresser when I’m in luck, and pretty rough and ready when it comes to camp life in the wilderness. You’ll like her, I think.” “Have you any children?” demanded Mary. “No.” Mary sighed and clasped her veiny hands. “Well,” she declared, “I’d feel safer if you had a child to take along--preferably a little girl of seven or eight. The child, perhaps, would restrain you if you had anything evil in your mind.” “Mary Temple, I’m ashamed of you!” Charmian half laughed, and the colour flooded her face. “I’m only looking out for your interests, my dear,” said Mary. “If I didn’t, who would? I distrust men on general principles, as you know very well. But if you’re determined to go, Charmian, we can at least travel to where we are to meet Mrs. Morley. Then if she suits me, we’ll go on. If not, we’ll come back.” “You’re a regular tyrant, Mary Temple!” pouted Charmian. “I know it,” Mary retorted. “But I get results.” CHAPTER VI SECOND SIGHT BECAUSE Mary Temple was afraid to ride over the narrow curving road after dark, the four prospective adventurers remained at Jorny Springs all night. Before going to bed Charmian, coached by the doctor, made arrangements with Leach and Morley to go to San Francisco and sign certain papers to show good faith, which papers would be drawn up by the young widow’s attorney. When this matter had been settled, they were to drive together to the Shinbone Country--wherever that was--and make a thorough investigation of the properties. Both Leach and Morley had protested against entering into a written agreement. They offered to produce references which ought to satisfy the most suspicious, but Dr. Shonto remained firm. Finally, seeing no way around the obstacle, they consented, but declared that they begrudged the time that would be taken up by the trip to San Francisco. After the plain, old-fashioned dinner served by the owners of Jorny Springs, Charmian took a walk through the twilight. Shortly after she left the house Andy Jerome set off in the opposite direction, stating that he too would like a stroll. But when the great trees hid him from the house he made a swift circle back, and soon was on Charmian’s trail. He found her leaning over a fence, watching a dozen fat and shockingly muddy pigs in a stake-and-rider corral. “I see you prefer to choose your own company,” he observed, as he rested his arms on the fence beside her. “I hope one more won’t constitute a crowd.”