He knew this for a Crowfoot line camp, recently installed, which accounted for the fact that he had not chanced across it the year before. The Lassiters, therefore, must ride for Crowfoot, he decided. “Bart and I only came down last week,” she said. “We’ve been living in your little house in Caldwell. Did you know?” “I gave him the key and told him the place was his,” Carver said. “But I’d have straightened it up a bit if I’d known he was going to install you there.” “It was supremely tidy,” she complimented. “Which was a distinct surprise. Most men’s housekeeping is rather the reverse.” Her gaze kept wandering off down the bottoms for some sign of Bart’s return. “I do hope he comes,” she said. “I’m real anxious to see Bart,” he confessed. “I certainly hope he turns up sometime inside of the next three or four hours for this is my busy day and I couldn’t conscientiously wait on him longer than that.” His tones expressed only a mild anxiety over the possible non-arrival of his friend. “Do please stay the very limit, at least,” she urged, and laughed up at him. “You know, you’re like Bart in a great many ways.” Carver someway felt that he knew her better after that laugh. “Don’t you think you two are somewhat alike?” He had divined the close bond between this girl and her brother and now made swift use of the knowledge. “Bart and I are so similar that we might easy be mistaken for twins,” he admitted. “You might say we’re almost identical.” “He means a lot to me Bart does,” she said. “In most ways he’s a lovable youngster, but----” Carver leaned back with an audible sigh. “Tell me all about Bart,” he urged. “I will,” she agreed. “In most ways he’s likable but he’s as wild as a hawk. He is absolutely irresponsible and will commit any reckless folly on a second’s notice without a thought of future consequences. The future means not one thing to him. He’s sublimely confident that every new day stands by itself, entirely unrelated to either yesterday or to-morrow. And he’s too easily led. Now don’t you think you two are considerably alike?” Carver considered this at some length. “There’s some few particulars wherein our make-ups branch way out apart,” he testified. “On those points we’re altogether dissimilar. Now me, I just can’t be led. I’m sometimes misled, maybe, but never plain led. And so far as the relation of one day to another”--he produced a silver dollar and regarded it--“why nothing could possibly convince me that five weeks ago last Tuesday wasn’t close kin to to-day.” The girl’s mind flashed back to that first meeting as he smiled across at her and continued: “And I’m hoping that there’ll be other days in the future that’ll belong to the same family group. You’d be downright surprised to know how far my mind wanders into the future--and you accusing me of not looking ahead.” “He’s told me a lot about you,” she said. “You’re the supreme chief of the tumbleweeds, from what I gather; openly irresponsible.”