m,
anyhow."

The horses came on rapidly, until upon the foremost of them Wade could
see the fluttering skirt of a woman, while the other he recognized as
belonging to Lem Trowbridge even before he could clearly make out the
rider.

"Tell the cook we'll have company to dinner," Wade called to Santry as
he untied a horse from the hitching rack near the barn and rode off to
meet the newcomers.

With fine prescience, Trowbridge, when he saw him ride toward them, drew
his horse down to a walk, and so was discreetly in the rear when Dorothy
and Wade met.

"Mighty glad to see you," he greeted her, "but that goes without
saying."

"Thanks," she responded, hoping that he would attribute the heightened
color of her cheeks to the exertion of the ride. "We thought we'd ride
out to see how you were getting along."

Despite her blush, that had come at the recollection of his kiss the
night before, she still looked him straight in the eyes, but with a
sweet humility, an attitude of surrender, which he understood and which
touched him. There was nothing bold about her look, but an engaging
womanliness, which would have appealed to any decent man, even while it
stirred his pulse. She wore a wide felt hat, from beneath the brim of
which her hair floated, shaken out of its moorings by the jolting of
her gallop. A flannel blouse, which was most becoming, and a divided
skirt completed a sensible costume, which seemed to Wade more attractive
than any he had ever seen in the East. She rode with the straight
stirrups of the cattle country, and sat her mount with the grace of a
born horsewoman.

"What's happened to Moran?" he asked, waving his hat to Trowbridge, as
the latter rode toward them.

"He's out and around again. I saw him this morning. He was an awful
sight. You must keep your eyes open, Gordon, really you must. He'll be
more dangerous than ever now."

"Oh, I guess we've clipped his claws for a while," he said lightly,
unwilling that she should be anxious for his safety, sweet though he
found her sympathy to be. "Hello, Lem!"

"Hello, yourself!" They shook hands, the firm handclasp of strong men,
and then all three rode on together to the house.

After dinner, the plainness of which meant nothing to such appetites as
their out-door living had aroused, they sat on the porch, the men over
their cigarettes and Dorothy quite content in the contemplation of the
sweetness which her heart had found.

"How are things going o