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He had been assured by one high in the administration that he might rely on Tisdale's magnetic personality and practical knowledge as well as his technical information in prosecuting the case; but while he hesitated over the question he wished to ask, Tisdale said mellowly, no doubt to bridge the awkward pause: "The Copper River and Northwestern couldn't mine their coal, and they couldn't import any, so they changed their locomotives to oil burners."
After that she went to the box of violets in the sleeping-porch and found Tisdale's message, and she had slipped the card carefully back and stood looking meditatively off through the open casement when her sister entered from the gallery. At the same time Mrs. Weatherbee appeared on the path above the pergola.
"Do you know," she said, "you are not at all the kind of man I was led to expect." "No?" He turned interestedly, with the amusement shading the corners of his mouth. "What did you hear?" "Why, I heard that you were the hardest man in the world to know; the most elusive, shyest." Tisdale's laugh rang, a low note from the depths of his mellow heart. "And you believed that?"
"You are asking me to sign my own death warrant." He lifted his shoulders. "It is your reputation or Essie Tisdale's." The name seemed to prick her like a goad. Her hands and body twitched nervously and then he saw swift decision arrive in her face. "I'll not do it!" As moved by a common impulse they arose. "It's the lesser of two evils." "I don't care!"
Downstairs she heard Essie Tisdale's merry laughter and it changed the current of her thoughts. She had learned her story now and the mystery of her identity had given the little belle of Crowheart an added attraction. Everybody in Crowheart knew her story for that matter; it was one of the stock tales of the country to be repeated to interest strangers.
Foster had had his hour; and, at this final moment, he sounded those hitherto unplumbed depths. "It will be all right," he said steadily; "wait until you see what Lucky Banks does. You can trust him not to stand in Tisdale's way. And don't think I underrate Hollis Tisdale. He is a man in a thousand. No one knows that better than I. And that's why I am going to hold him to his record."
Her evident desire to contribute her share, the fine show of courage that accepted and made the best of the inevitable, went straight to Tisdale's heart. "Tea," he repeated mellowly, "tea and all the outfit. Well, that was mighty thoughtful of you. I won't even have to make a fire. But wait a minute; I am going to lift that table out here where it is cooler."
Presently he lifted the remaining strap, but before he could snap the hook in the ring, the colt's ears flattened back, and he gripped Tisdale's hand. Instantly Miss Armitage snatched the whip and was on her feet. "Whoa, Nip," she cried, and cut the vixen lightly between the ears. "Whoa, now, whoa!" The young horse released his hold and broke forward, with Hollis dragging at the bit.
But it was a long time to remember a picture seen only by the flicker of a camp-fire and starshine, and the woman of Tisdale's imagination clouded out the face he tried to recall. "Still Weatherbee was so sensitive, so fine," he argued with himself. "A woman must have possessed more than a beautiful body to have become the center of his life.
With the news of Essie Tisdale's altered position and Mrs. Terriberry missed no opportunity to convey the impression that Kincaid's resources were unlimited the tide turned and the buffalo berry jelly, the Lady Baltimore cake, baked beans and Mrs. Parrott's tinned lobster salad, were the straws which in Crowheart always showed which way the wind was blowing.