As she ascended the steps of the Rio Vista, after her return from the Berl ranch, Helen's attention was attracted to an old man who was seated near the head of the broad stone steps that led to the broader verandah. He seemed utterly out of harmony with his surroundings. His clothes were not shabby, but they were evidently worn more with an eye to the useful than to the ornamental. The heavy boots were wrinkled and worn, yet solid, and the blacking suggested a reluctant concession to custom rather than to a sense of propriety. His trousers were baggy and his coat hung in loose folds from a pair of broad, square shoulders. A white shirt was topped by a high old-fashioned collar, held by a flowing tie of navy blue. These incongruities, in sharp contrast to the finished specimens of well-groomed humanity who circled around him, first attracted Helen. It was the face that compelled from her more than a passing notice. As she looked at the face, more especially the eyes, a sense of relief from oppression, an almost irresistible impulse to laughter came over her. It was not ridicule, but a light-hearted response to the contagious humor radiating from every line and wrinkle. Yet the weathered face, with its closely-cropped fringe of gray beard, resting like a sphere on the sharp lips of the high collar, carried the conviction that the mobile lines could set hard as frozen metal, that the humorous eyes, deep beneath overhanging brows, could pierce like sharpened steel. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the eyes seemed to answer her own and the face to turn as as she passed, in order to prolong the interchange of wordless messages. Later in the day Helen was seated apart from the crowd in the rotunda. She wanted to get away from herself but there was no desire to seek companionship. Consequently she was annoyed at the sound of footsteps which evidently had her for an object. She was more annoyed when a chair was dragged from its position and thrust beside her own. She did not even turn her head when she heard a slump in the chair which testified that the intruder intended to maintain his position. With no preliminary cough, a rugged voice remarked: "Pretty considerable goin' on in these parts, if 'tis three thousand miles from nowhere, an' a hard road at that." Helen's annoyance vanished. She turned brightly to the old man. "Please excuse me. I didn't know who it was till you spoke." "If you know now, you've got the advantage 'o me, in one sense. I'm Uncle Sid Harwood, retired sea captain, at present cruisin' for pleasure." Helen bowed with sedate humor. "I'm Helen Lonsdale and nothing in particular." Uncle Sid Harwood surveyed his companion leisurely. "First time I ever found nothin' in particular worth while. You come from around here?" "Yes, I'm Californian, born and bred." "Glad to know it. I've been lyin' at anchor here some days lookin' for a pilot. I reckoned you knew the harbor. Met a young fellow by the name o' Berl?"