popular, the laughing, hearty sort, full of badinage, and genuinely liking
most men with whom he came in contact. There was always much joking in the
air, but back of it was a certain reserve, a certain wariness, for every
second man was a professed "fire-eater," given to feeling insulted on the
slightest grounds, and flying to the duel or the street fight instanter.

This hour was always most pleasant to Keith; nevertheless, he went home
about five o'clock in order to enjoy an hour or so of daylight about the
place. He performed prodigies of digging in the new garden: constructing
terraces, flower beds, walks, and the like. While the actual construction
work was under way he was greatly interested, but cared nothing for the
finished product or the mere growing of the flowers.

Gringo received his share of training, at first to his intense disgust.
Twice he refused obedience, and the matter being pressed, resorted to the
simple expedient of retiring from the scene. Keith dropped everything and
pursued. Gringo crawled under things, but was followed even to the dustiest
and cob-webbiest farthest corner under the porch; he tried swiftness and
dodging, but was trailed in all his doublings and twistings at top speed;
he tried running straight away over the sand hills, and at first left his
horrible master behind, but the horrible master possessed a horrible
persistence. Finally he shut his eyes and squatted, expecting instant
annihilation, but instead was haled back to the exact scene of his
disobedience, and the command repeated. Nan laughed until the tears came,
over the large, warm, red-faced man after the small, obstinate, scared pup,
but Keith refused to joke.

"If he finds he can't get away, no matter what happens, I'll never have to
do it again," he panted. "But if he wins out, even once, it'll be an awful
job."