Susan Lenox, Her Fall and Rise

"Jove! My first customer? Charley, you're a peach!" exclaimed Roger. "I suppose I might put my plant up on your place to begin with. But no, this is the spot the Smithsonian picked, it's government land, and to move now might make endless complications. But you'll have your pumping plant, Charley, before any one else does. And we'll make the alfalfa crops pay for it."

Charley nodded, then gasped, "Look, Roger! Oh, if Ernest and Dick could only steal in now!"

The guest had pulled her rocker out before the tent flap and was seated in it, eyes closed, hands clasped over her stomach, immovable except for a light swaying of her chair.

"Concentrating, I suppose," muttered Roger. "Charley, I'll bet the old bird will never leave me. I have the feeling."

"What on earth does she mean by concentrating?" gasped Charley, through her laughter.

"Oh, it's some of that occult rot, I don't doubt," groaned Roger. "Charley, stay till the fellows come. I'm frightened."

"On the contrary," laughed Charley, "I'm going to get us all an early supper and put those burros to bed before dark."

She was as good as her word. The afterglow had not faded from the sky when Roger returned to the camp, after helping Charley with her chores. His guest had retired to her tent and Roger withdrew to his and threw himself down on his cot to await the return of Dick and Ernest.

It was midnight when the teams rattled into camp. Roger hastened out at once.

"We'll unhitch and leave both wagons here to unload in the morning," said Ernest.

Dick already was silently unchecking his horses, returning only a grunt to Roger's greeting.

"I'll go with you, Dick, and take our team to the corral," said Roger.

"Don't be a fool!" growled Dick. "I'll take them without any help. If I've got to board 'em, I'll do the work for 'em. Don't you butt in!" He mounted one of his own horses and stringing the others behind, he rode off under the starlight.

"For the Lord's sake!" exclaimed Roger, following Ernest into the tent, "what's the matter with Dick?"

Ernest tossed a pile of mail onto the trunk beside the candle. "I haven't the remotest idea. He was as jolly as usual when we had our supper at sunset. About an hour ago I spoke to him and he took my head off. I haven't tried him since. Sweet for poor Charley."

"I didn't know he was subject to grouches," mused Roger. "Say, Ern, before I read the mail, I've got some news for you."

"Qui-tha done some real work?" asked Ernest with a yawn.