Katherine was chatting with a wiry, middle-aged man whom she introduced
to Rhoda as Mr. Porter, an Arizona mining man. Porter stood as if
stunned for a moment by Rhoda's delicate loveliness. Then, as was the
custom of every man who met Rhoda, he looked vaguely about for something
to do for her. Jack Newman forestalled him by taking Rhoda's hand and
leading her to the table. Jack's curly blond hair looked almost white in
contrast with his tanned face. He was not as tall as either Cartwell or
DeWitt but he was strong and clean-cut and had a boyish look despite the
heavy responsibilities of his five-thousand-acre ranch.

"There," he said, placing Rhoda beside Porter; "just attach Porter's
scalp to your belt with the rest of your collection. It'll be a new
experience to him. Don't be afraid, Porter."

Billy Porter was not in the least embarrassed.

"I've come too near to losing my scalp to the Apaches to be scared by
Miss Tuttle. Anyhow I gave her my scalp without a yelp the minute I laid
eyes on her."

"Here! That's not fair!" cried John DeWitt. "The rest of us had to work
to get her to take ours!"

"Our what?" asked Cartwell, entering the room at the last word. He was
looking very cool and well groomed in white flannels.

Billy Porter stared at the newcomer and dropped his soup-spoon with a
splash. "What in thunder!" Rhoda heard him mutter.