ard. A cow-punching princess bids you
welcome."

She was looking him fairly in the eyes when she said it, and he
acquitted her doubtfully of the charge of intention. But her repetition,
accidental or incidental, of his own phrase was sufficiently
disconcerting to make him awkwardly silent while she led the way into
the spacious reception-hall.

Here the spell of the enchantments laid fresh hold on him. The rustic
exterior of the great house was only the artistically designed
contrast--within were richness, refinement, and luxury unbounded. The
floors were of polished wood, and the rugs were costly Daghestans.
Beyond portieres of curious Indian bead-work, there were vistas of
harmonious interiors; carved furnishings, beamed and panelled ceilings,
book-lined walls. The light everywhere came from the softly tinted
electric globes. There was a great stone fireplace in the hall, but
radiators flanked the openings, giving an added touch of modernity.

Ballard pulled himself together and strove to recall the fifty-mile,
sky-reaching mountain barrier lying between all this twentieth-century
country-house luxury and the nearest outpost of urban civilisation. It
asked for a tremendous effort; and the realising anchor dragged again
when Miss Craigmiles summoned a Japanese servant and gave him in charge.

"Show Mr. Ballard to the red room, Tagawi," she directed. And then to
the guest: "We dine at seven--as informally as you please. You will find
your bag in your room, and Tagawi will serve you. As you once told me
when I teased you in your Boston workshop--'If you don't see what you
want, ask for it.'"

The Kentuckian followed his guide up the broad stair and through a
second-floor corridor which abated no jot of the down-stair
magnificence. Neither did his room, for that matter. Hangings of
Pompeian red gave it its name; and it was spacious and high-studded, and
critically up to date in its appointments.

The little brown serving-man deftly opened the bag brought by the
colonel's messenger from Ballard's quarters at the Elbow Canyon camp,
and laid out the guest's belongings. That done, he opened the door of
the bath. "The honourable excellency will observe the hot water; also
cold. Are the orders other for me?"

Ballard shook his head, dismissed the smiling little man, and turned on
the water.

"I reckon I'd better take it cold," he said to himself; "then I'll know
certainly whether I'm awake or dreaming. By Jove! but th