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"I am a producer and manager of plays," said Jasper, "which means that I take a play written by a more gifted man and arrange it for the stage. Have you ever seen a play?" "No, sir." "But you have some idea what they are?" "Yes. I have read them. Shakespeare wrote quite a lot of that kind of talking pieces, didn't he?" Jasper was less surprised than Yarnall.

Thus it happened that Yarnall had been making and reducing his observations in his own way, and I, on alternate nights, had been making and reducing mine in my way, which was modeled after the Greenwich fashion, and therefore quite different from his.

You see, once these rich New Yorkers take you up, you're no more use to a plain ranchman like me." "What are you drivin' at?" asked Jane. "Do let me explain it to her, Yarnall!" Jasper snapped his elastic fingers, color had risen to his face, and he looked annoyed. "Miss Jane, won't you sit down?" Jane turned her deep, indignant eyes upon him.

By that time he was sitting on the step, his back against the wall, still smoking and still wistfully observant of his surroundings. He stood up when Yarnall came. "Sorry," said the latter; "that fool boy didn't tell me you were here till ten minutes ago. Come in. You'll stop for dinner if we get any to-day." "Thank you," said Pierre. He came in and talked and stayed for dinner.

Jasper went down the stairs and on the way he remembered a letter received from Yarnall a long time before. He remembered it with an accession of alarm. "I've probably let hell loose for your protégée, Jane; given your address, and incidentally hers, to a fellow who wants her pretty badly. His name's Pierre Landis. You're a pretty good judge of white men. Size him up and do what's best for Jane."

It seemed to Yarnall that the stranger had visited every ranch in the Rocky Mountain belt. After dinner, strolling beside his host toward his horse, Pierre spoke, and before Yarnall had heard a word he knew that the long delay had been caused by suppressed emotion. Pierre, when he did ask his question, was white to the lips. "I've taken a lot of your time," he said slowly.

Her head had been bending lower and lower, her voice rocking under its weight of restrained anguish. On the word "music" she dropped her head to her knees and was silent. "I can't talk no more," she said, after a moment, and she stood up and ran out of the room. "I'll be d d!" swore Yarnall. But Jasper stood, his face pale, smiting one hand into the other.

The astronomical clock with which Yarnall and I made our observations kept worse time than a high-class pocket watch does to-day. The instruments were antiquated and defective in several particulars. Before real work could be commenced new ones must be procured. But the civil war was in progress, and the times were not favorable to immediately securing them.

The stranger dropped to his heels, squatted, and rolled a cigarette. "I'll wait," he murmured. "You can let him know when the dudes make their get-away. He'll get round to me. My name? It won't mean anything to him Pierre Landis." He did not go round the house, and Yarnall, being very busy and perturbed for some time after the departure of his guests, did not get round to him till nearly noon.

It soon became evident that there was less ground than I had supposed for apprehension on this point. There was a free and easy way of carrying on work which was surprising to one who had supposed it all arranged on strict plans, and done according to rule and discipline. Professor Yarnall, whose assistant I was, was an extremely pleasant gentleman to be associated with.