Now I must run along, or the ladies will be up in arms--and not my arms, either." Bryant helped him to button the curtains on the hood of the car, found an instant when he could press Ruth's hand unobserved and murmur a word in her ear, and stated that if the rain did not last he would run down (he had picked up a second-hand Ford in Kennard) to Sarita Creek after supper.
"I don't see half enough of you," Ruth said, giving him a pat on the cheek with the gloved finger that now wore a diamond solitaire.

To Mr.
Gretzinger she continued, "If you get us home without a wetting, you may stay and eat with us; but if you don't, why, you can go straight on to town." Off the car sped down the trail toward Bartolo where it would gain the well-travelled mesa road, a hand thrust through the curtains waving back at Bryant.
The engineer did not go to Sarita Creek that night, for the rain settled into a steady drizzle that lasted until well toward morning.
After supper he went, however, to the adobe dwelling of the Mexican who once had warned him from his field.

The man's seven-year-old boy had fallen from a horse the day previous and fractured a leg; half fearfully, half recklessly, the parent had come running to camp for medical aid; and Lee had despatched the camp doctor, a young fellow recently graduated, to treat the injury.

Bryant was admitted into the house.

The youngster, he learned, was resting comfortably and had been visited by the doctor that afternoon.