The Texan's interest centred on matters at hand: "You Bat, you make a
fire when you've finished with the horses." He turned again to the
girl: "If you'll be the cook, Win an' I'll mud up a catch-basin an'
rustle some firewood while Bat makes camp. We got to do all our
cookin' at night up here. A fire won't show above the rim yonder, but
in the daytime someone might see the smoke from ten mile off."

"Of course, I'll do the cooking!" assented the girl, and began to carry
the camp utensils from the pack that the half-breed had thrown upon the
ground. "The dough-gods are all gone!" she exclaimed in dismay,
peering into a canvas bag.

"Mix up some bakin'-powder ones. There's flour an' stuff in that brown
sack."

"But--I don't know how!"

"All right. Wait 'til I get Win strung out on this job, an' I'll make
up a batch."

He watched Endicott arrange some stones: "Hey, you got to fit those
rocks in better'n that. Mud ain't goin' to hold without a good
backin'."

The cowboy washed his hands in the overflow trickle and wiped them upon
his handkerchief. "I don't know what folks does all their lives back
East," he grinned; "Win, there, ain't barbered none to speak of, an'
the Lord knows he ain't no stone-mason."

Alice did not return the smile, and the Texan noticed that her face was