THE SUMMONS
Kate rose to clear away and wash the dishes, but Bow- ers motioned her to remain seated. "You rest yourself, Ma'am. I was a pearl diver in a restauraw fer three months onct so I am, you might say, a professional." "Uncle Joe and I take turns," Kate laughed, "for neither of us likes it." "That's the best way," Bowers agreed, breaking the constrained silence which fell each time Mormon Joe's name was mentioned. "More pardners has fell out over dish-washin' and the throwin' of diamond hitches than any other causes."
When, to Kate's horror. Bowers had wiped off the top of the stove with the dishcloth and removed some linger- ing moisture from the inside of a frying pan with his el- bow, she said, rising: "I'm up at four, so I go to bed early. You can sleep in Uncle Joe's tepee," to Lingle, "and you needn't get up for breakfast when we do. I suppose," to Bowers, "you'll want to start in to-morrow, so l'll go with you and show you the range we're feeding over." With a friendly good night she turned towards the entrance.
Lingle rose with a look of desperation on his coun- tenance. "Just a minute." There was that in his voice which made her turn quickly and look from one to the other in wonder. Lingle had a feeling that his vocal cords had turned to wire, they moved so stiffly, when he heard himself saying: "Guess I'll have to ask you to take a ride with me to- morrow." "Me? " Her eyes widened. "What for? " The yellow flame flickered in the smudged chimney of
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