It was quite dark when Mr. Jack¹ Brace² stopped before Father Wynn's open door. The windows were also invitingly³ open to the wayfarer⁴, as were the pastoral counsels of Father Wynn, delivered to some favored guest within, in a tone of voice loud enough for a pulpit. Jack Brace paused. The visitor was the convalescent sheriff, Jim Dunn, who had publicly commemorated⁵ his recovery by making his first call upon the father of his inamorata. The Reverend Mr. Wynn had been expatiating⁶ upon the unremitting heat of a possible precursor⁷ of forest fires, and exhibiting some catholic knowledge of the designs of a Deity⁸ in that regard, and what should be the policy of the Legislature, when Mr. Brace concluded to enter. Mr. Wynn and the wounded man, who occupied an arm-chair by the window, were the only occupants of the room. But in spite of the former's ostentatious greeting, Brace could see that his visit was inopportune and unwelcome. The sheriff nodded a quick, impatient recognition, which, had it not been accompanied by an anathema⁹ on the heat, might have been taken as a personal insult. Neither spoke¹⁰ of Miss Nellie, although it was patent to Brace that they were momentarily expecting her. All of which went far to strengthen a certain wavering purpose in his mind.