d propped upon his hand, and his elbow digging into the sod and
getting grass-stains on his shirt sleeve, for the day was too warm for a
coat. Beatrice, looking down at him, observed that his forearm, between
his glove and wrist-band, was as white and smooth as her own. It is
characteristic of a cowboy to have a face brown as an Indian, and hands
girlishly white and soft.

"I haven't had a glimpse of you for a week--not since I met you down by
the river. Where have you been?" he whispered.

"Here. Rex went lame, and Dick wouldn't let me ride any other horse,
since that day Goldie bolted--and so the hills have called in vain. I've
stayed at home and made quantities of Duchesse lace--I almost finished
a love of a center piece--and mama thinks I have reformed. But Rex is
better, and tomorrow I'm going somewhere."

"Better help me hunt some horses that have been running down Lost Canyon
way. I'm going to look for them to-morrow," Keith suggested, as calmly
as was compatible with his eagerness and his method of speech. I doubt
if any man can whisper things to a girl he loves, and do it calmly. I
know Keith's heart was pounding.

"I shall probably ride in the opposite direction," Beatrice told him
wickedly. She wondered if he thought she would run at his beck.

"I never saw you in this dress before," Keith murmured, his eyes
caressing.

"No? You may never again," she said. "I have so many things to wear out,
you know."

"I like it," he declared, as emphatically as he could, and whisper. "It
is just the color of your cheeks, after the wind has been kissing them a
while."

"Fancy a cowboy saying pretty things like that!"

Beatrice's cheeks did not wait for the wind to kiss them pink.

"Ya-as, only fawncy, ye knaw." His eyes were daringly mocking.

"For shame, Mr. Cameron! Sir Redmond would not mimic your speech."

"Good reason why; he couldn't, not if he tried a thousand years."

Beatrice knew this was the truth, so she fell back upon dignity.

"We will not discuss that subject, I think."

"I don't want to, anyway. I know another subject a million times more
interesting than Sir Redmond."

"Indeed!" Beatrice's eyebrows were at their highest. "And what is it,
then?"

"You!" Keith caught her hand; his eyes compelled her.

"I think," said Beatrice, drawing her hand away, "we will not discuss
that subject, either."

"Why?" Keith's eyes continued to woo.

"Because."

It occurred to Beatrice that an unsophi