"They both mean the same thing. Whew! Helen, I've got another idea about this country. It's a great country for raisin' ideas, if it ain't good for anything else. It's prolific! It would make a stone man think." He paused, fanning himself vigorously. "There ain't any use talkin'; it's great! Soaks thinks full o' fog-water nights, an' then the sun comes out mornin's and boils 'em. If it wasn't for fogs 'twould roast 'em. I don't wonder 'Lige Berl gets a broad view o' Providence. You can get all sorts o' vittles in this country, roasted, boiled and dried. I bet those critters are carryin' around dried beef on their bones right now." Ralph's look of amusement gave way to one of inquiry. "Are you a friend of Elijah Berl?" he asked. "Helen, why don't you introduce us?" But Uncle Sid again interrupted. "Worse than that, young man, worse than that. It's most as bad as blood relations. Me and 'Lige Berl's folks have been brought up in the same neighborhood back in New England for ages." Ralph started to reply to Uncle Sid, but a glance at Helen changed his mind. "Let's get down to Pedro's ranch, in the shade. The wagons won't be along for an hour yet." He tried to walk by Helen's side, but she waited for Uncle Sid. The last remnant of the fog had departed; the sun was blazing fiercely. Toward Ysleta, the air was already shimmering over the sand. By the ditches and among the vines, was the music of many birds and the cheerful notes of Bob White. Half stifled with the choking dust, they scuffled and slid down the steep trail that led to Pedro's adobe. Pedro was following, his stolid face stifling his emotions. At the gate, the vaquero and Winston, drawing their reins over their ponies' heads, dropped them on the ground. Pedro stepped forward, swept his hat from his head and held the gate open for his guests to pass through. Following them, he pointed to an inviting hammock, swung between two fruit trees. Again he swept his hat from his head. "Perhaps the señorita will honor my poor hammock by reposing in it." Helen stepped to the hammock. Another graceful bow from Pedro. "At your feet, señorita." Uncle Sid, uninvited, explored the garden. Pedro was marching to the adobe. To Helen it seemed as if she had never before experienced such a delicious sensation as the resting of her tired body in the perfectly adjusted hammock. Ralph was watching her. "Pedro has departed, may I take his place?" Assuming an affirmative answer, he stretched himself at her feet. "Helen, what's wrong?" he asked anxiously. "Nothing, that I know of." She replied evasively. "Is it the office?" persisted Winston. "Why can't you believe me?" There was a trace of annoyance in her manner. "Because when your eyes tell me one thing and your lips another, I'm going to take my choice." "I really don't like to ask you to attend to your own business, Ralph." There was a flash of the old humor in her voice.