Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. No man knew whence she had come nor why. "Give it me," returned the carpenter; "all's safe. Never in this world! Let the hotel people take care of him; it's their affair. The Leads 405 XXI. "If you thought that, why did you give me this job?"—his voice faint and thick. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air.
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