"Make him out?" whispered Wango.
"Yeah. I saw."
"Now, I wonder—"
"Shut your face. Yuh didn't see him atall, get me? You and me don't know nothin'. And is happy as such."
"Gosh, we're ign'runt ain't we, Buck?"
"You bet. I misdoubt they's two fellas in the world that knows as much as we do and is so plumb ign'runt."
Denver and his friends returned casually to the dance hall. It was Steve Steers who, stepping around Nightingale, first saw what had happened. Compressing his lips, he began to wigwag at the others. The Englishman walked forward to his lady and bowed ceremoniously; and by this time there were twenty people grinning at him. The Englishman began to feel something wrong and swung about, thus exposing his back to the length of the hall. Somebody whooped joyously. Whereat Nightingale twisted his neck, and looked among his friends.
"Do I," he demanded, "look odd?"
"Who've you been associatin' with lately?" Denver asked.
"Hm," breathed Nightingale. "Did those extr'ord'n'ary fellas, Meems and Wango, have an ulterior motive?" He bowed again at his lady and with a calmness that was iron-like shucked his coat to expose all the bracing and lacing and scaffolding of his shirt. He held up the back of the coat critically. Upon it clung a square sheet of paper, damp with paste, and across the paper was inscribed:
FOR RENT OR HIRE
SEE JAKE EPSTEIN
NOBBY CLOTHIER.
"So they took me," observed Nightingale, ripping off the sign. And though he maintained the utmost gravity, something like a beam of laughter sparkled in his azure eyes.
The women were outraged. But Denver chuckled broadly. "Well, we've got one point cleared up about that rig. He doesn't pin it on; he buckles it on."
Cal Steele, smiling languidly, let his glance play around the hall. His head jerked, and on the moment darkness came to his face. Rather forcibly he recovered his smile and murmured to Eve, "Just excuse me a minute." He strode out of the barn.
"Folks," said Eve, "in two or three hours it will be daylight. Most of our men have a day's work ahead. Supposing we go home."
"I think I do more work than anybody here," put in Nightingale. "Keepin' out of my foreman's way."
Steve Steers flushed and appeared uncomfortable, as indeed he had appeared most of the evening.
"Always was an officious rascal," drawled Denver. "The trouble is to keep him on the job. Temperamental I mean."
"Ain't I among friends?" was Steve's plaintive groan.
Debbie started to defend him with tartness, but Cal Steele returned and drew the circle's attention. Worry stamped his cheeks. He spoke without the customary ease, almost jerking the words out.
"This is bad. I've got to go home. Now. David, could I appeal to you to see that Eve is taken care of? Eve, my dear, I'll make up for this—"
"It's all right," Eve assured him quickly.
Denver was watching his friend with sharp attention. "Want help, Cal?"
"No. Not at all. But I've got to go."
It was Steve who had to crown his evening's misery by one supremely inopportune remark.
"Well, yuh got two girls now, Dave. What you goin' to do with 'em?"
In itself the statement was harmless; but it brought to the minds of all the long-standing question in Yellow Hill concerning Dave and Lola and Eve. In the moment of dead silence Steve saw his mistake and was practically paralyzed. He turned a dull red. It was Eve, herself flushed, who bridged the strained scene.
"That's soon settled," said she coolly. "Let Lola come home with me tonight."
"I would like that," replied Lola, dark eyes shining across at Eve.
Cal Steele gave the group a short flickering smile. "Goodnight to you all. I have had the evening of my life. And until we meet again—bless you, my children."
Denver was plainly worried, and he started after Steele. "Sure you don't want help, Cal?"
But Cal Steele shook his head. "Dave, old man, if I did I'd come to you first of all." The inner strain of his thoughts aged him; he stared at Denver like a man racked and wrung. "Just remember that. I'd always come to you first—and last. So long."
He disappeared, leaving behind the hint of trouble. Some of the sparkle went from the party, and by common consent they slowly paid their farewells and walked from the hall. Denver put Eve and Lola in his rig and went over to intercept Steve. "Listen, when you leave Debbie home, why not cut around by the rock road to the ranch? Just to see if anything's on the wing?"
"Can do," grunted Steve.
Dave hurried back and found his foreman, Lyle Bonnet, loitering in the stag line. "Pick up what boys you find from the outfit," he told Bonnet, "and take the straight tail to Starlight. If you hear anything, have a look. Now, hustle."
He returned to the buggy, spread the robes around Lola and Eve, and silently aimed for the Leverage ranch. In the course of the ride he hardly spoke a dozen words, wrapped as he was in uneasy thought. At the Leverage house he helped them down and turned the buggy about. They stood on the porch a moment, the fair, clear-minded, and boyish Eve beside Lola, who seemed to him so often all fire and flame. It struck him queerly that these two, opposites in character, should tonight be sharing the same house. Eve's drowsy, practical, "Goodnight, Dave, go home and get some sleep," made a pleasant melody in the night. Lola only said, "Goodnight," in a slow whisper, but somehow it was in Dave's ear all the way across the yard. In the main road he put the horse to an urgent pace, the thought of Cal Steele's drawn face troubling him.
Eve lighted a lamp and showed Lola to the guest room. "Sleep as late as you please. I'll take you to town in the morning. We've had a splendid evening, haven't we?"
Lola's dark eyes glowed. "Tonight you smoothed over the hard truth, and I admired you more than ever I thought I would." She threw back her head and acted out Steve's unfortunate sentence. "'Well, you've got two girls now, Dave. What are you going to do with them?' But David could not answer it if he wanted. He doesn't know. Neither do you, nor I."
Eve seemed a little pale and tired. "I have been wanting to ask you something for a long while. Did you find the three years' absence to help any? With David?"
"Why?"
Eve answered slowly. "If I thought my leaving for a time would make any difference I'd go tomorrow."
"And come back on the next train for fear of losing," said Lola. "I know."
"What would you do to please him?" asked Eve.
"You see me standing here. I could be a thousand pleasanter places. There is your answer. I would go any place for him, do anything. Do you understand that?"
Eve's body stiffened. The message in Lola's eyes, the blaze of feeling repelled her. Lola laughed softly. "You wouldn't, would you? You want to be discreet. You are afraid. You want things without paying for them."
"That is not love," said Eve quickly.
"Not your kind. But it is my kind. Love is everything. Like fire, like torture, like thirst. You must be half a savage to know it. I'm half a savage. You're not."
"But it isn't love," repeated Eve, biting her lip.
"Not your kind," said Lola, a trace of scorn in her words. "Let me tell you. David Denver is too strong a man to be held completely by any one woman. He is kind, yet when the black mood is on him he could double up his fist and destroy. He speaks softly, yet always with a fire burning deep down in him. He will never