have been a trifle grim and somber.  The nose was prominent and boldly arched, the ears large and pronounced and standing well away from the head; the mouth was thin-lipped and mobile.  Alaire tried to read that bronzed visage, with little success until she closed her eyes and regarded the mental image.  Then she found the answer:  Law had the face and the head of a hunter.  The alert ears, the watchful eyes, the predatory nose were like those of some hunting animal.  Yes, that was decidedly the strongest impression he gave.  And yet in his face there was nothing animal in a bad sense.  Certainly it showed no grossness.  The man was wild, untamed, rather than sensual, and despite his careless use of the plains vernacular he seemed to be rather above the average in education and intelligence.  At any rate, without being stupidly tongue-tied, he knew enough to remain silent when there was nothing to say, and that was a blessing, for Mrs. Austin herself was not talkative, and idle chatter distressed her.

On the whole, when Alaire had finished her analysis she rather resented the good impression Law had made upon her, for on general principles she chose to dislike and distrust men.  Rising, she walked painfully to the pond and made a leisurely toilet.

Breakfast was ready when she returned, and once more the man sat upon his heels and smoked while she ate.  Alaire could not catch his eyes upon her, except when he spoke, at which time his gaze was direct and open; yet never did she feel free from his intensest observation.

After a while she remarked:  “I’m glad to see a Ranger in this county.  There has been a lot of stealing down our way, and the Association men can’t seem to stop it.  Perhaps you can.”

“The Rangers have a reputation in that line,” he admitted.  “But there is stealing all up and down the border, since the war.  You lost any stuff?”

“Yes.  Mostly horses.”

“Sure!  They need horses in Mexico.”

“The ranchers have organized.  They have formed a sort of vigilance committee in each town, and talk of using bloodhounds.”

“Bloodhounds ain’t any good, outside of novels.  If beef got scarce, them Greasers would steal the dogs and eat ’em.”  He added, meditatively, “Dog ain’t such bad eatin’, either.”

“Have you tried it?”

Mr. Law nodded.  “It was better than some of the army beef we got in the Philippines.”  Then, in answer to her unspoken inquiry, “Yes’m, I served an enlistment there.”

“You—­were a private soldier?”

“Yes’m.”

Mrs. Austin was incredulous, and yet she could not well express her surprise without too personal an implication.  “I can’t imagine anybody—­that is, a man like you, as a common soldier.”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly that,” he grinned.  “No, I was about the most UNcommon soldier out there.  I had a speakin’ acquaintance with most of the guard-houses in the islands before I got through.”