Bryant was human; the opportunity was one he could not let pass. So
smiling broadly he said:

"We've met before, haven't we, Menocal? At Perro Creek ford." And
receiving no response but a scowl, he spoke at large, "Well, I must
get busy if I'm to save those beans."

He led Dick, with Dave at his side, toward the garden on open ground
below the trees, where the bean vines were already turning yellow for
lack of water. He chuckled as he went, for the disappearance of
Charlie Menocal's patronizing air and the sudden thundercloud hanging
on his visage attested that the charge had gone home.

Ten minutes later the automobile passed the garden, but Bryant, who
had set up his tripod and stationed Dave with his rod some distance
off, did not see the hand Ruth Gardner waved. His eye was where an
engineer's eye should be, at his transit.

"She waved at you," Dave called.

"Who?"

"That girl with the Mexican."

"Well, what of it?"

When Bryant used that tone, Dave recognized the wisdom of silence. He
pretended that he had not heard. Even his employer, whom he
worshipped, had strange, mysterious moods.