an excavation for a
well. Elijah Clifford busied himself at the little barn with some plans
for an improved hobble to use on an unusually cunning and inventive
pony.

When he stepped out of the barn and looked over to the river bank he saw
Miss Gray sitting on the old cottonwood log. The other ladies had gone
back to the mission buildings.

Clifford stopped where he was a minute and then slowly walked over to
the log and sat down.

"That was a good dinner," he said, a little awkwardly, as he looked
first at Miss Gray and then at the river.

"Wasn't it?" said Miss Gray with even more enthusiasm than the subject
called for. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Did I? I haven't got over it yet. Somehow I feel as if it would be
wrong to eat any canned goods for quite a while. A sort of
uncomplimentary reflection on Bauer. I wouldn't have eaten so much only
I didn't want to hurt his feelings by appearing not to appreciate his
treat. Isn't he a fine fellow?"

"Yes," said Miss Gray. She did not seem very talkative and appeared very
nervous for a young woman who had figured as a life saver on various
occasions.

"I wish the Douglases had been here, don't you?" asked Clifford. He had
his knife out and, Yankee-like, was busy shaving pieces off the old log.
It seemed to help him in keeping up what seemed to promise to be a
one-sided talk. "Yes. I--I've had a letter from Milton. Would you like
to read it?"

"Sure. I always did enjoy Miss Helen's talk. I expect her letters are as
interesting."

"This isn't from Helen. It's from her brother," Miss Gray blushed as
Clifford quickly looked up at her. "But I would like to have you read it
and give me your advice."

Clifford took the letter without a word. He opened it slowly and read
it. Then he looked at Miss Gray with a puzzled look.

"The young man seems to want to open a correspondence with you. That is
certainly all right. But you don't want my advice about that, do you?"

"Oh! I meant to give you this letter. It is the second one I received."
Miss Gray handed Clifford another letter, and he gravely read that
through slowly.

"He seems to be making good progress," was Elijah's comment. "In the
first letter he wants to know if he can write, and in the second he
wants to know if you will be Mrs. Douglas some time. I call that going
some. But it's no more than I expected."

Miss Gray was almost crying.

"Isn't it absurd? What do you think I ought to do? What would you say to
him