pproached, Boyle was in the middle of a story of his
experiences in Comanche during the days of its infancy. Mrs. Reed, busy
about the stove, had grown so deeply interested that she stood with a
lamb chop in her hand poised above the frying-pan, her face all smiles.
Boyle was seated on a low box, and some of the others were standing
around him, hiding him from Agnes, who stopped near the stove on
catching the sound of the new voice. Mrs. Reed nodded reassuringly.

"It's the Governor's son," said she.

Boyle caught sight of Agnes at that moment and jumped to his feet.
Walker turned to introduce him.

"No need," said Boyle, striding forward to their great amazement, his
hand outstretched. "Miss Gates and I are old friends."

Agnes drew back with a frightened, shrinking start, her face very
white.

"I beg your pardon, sir!" she protested with some little show of
indignation.

"This is Miss Horton," said Walker, coming to her rescue with
considerable presence. "She's one of us."

Boyle stammered, staring in amazement.

"I apologize to Miss Horton," said he with something like an insolent
emphasis upon the name. "The resemblance is remarkable, believe me!"

Agnes inclined her head in cold acknowledgment, as if afraid to trust
her tongue, and passed on into the tent. Boyle stared after her, and a
feeling that there was something out of tune seemed to fall upon the
party waiting there for supper in the red sunset.

Boyle forgot the rest of his story, and the others forgot to ask him to
resume it. He repeated something about remarkable resemblances, and
seemed to have fallen into a period of abstraction, from which he roused
himself presently with a short, grunting laugh.

"I must be gettin' on," said he, arising and taking his cowboy hat from
the table, where it lay among the plates--to the great satisfaction and
delight of Mrs. Mann, who believed that she had met a real westerner at
last.

"Oh, stay for supper!" pleaded June.

"You'll get enough of me when you come out to the ranch," he laughed,
giving her cheek a brotherly pinch.

While Mrs. Reed would have resented such familiarity with June's cheek
on the part of Mr. Walker, or even Mr. Bentley, she took it as an act of
condescension and compliment on the part of the Governor's son, and
smiled.

Walker went off down the street with Boyle, to speed him on his way. The
Governor's son was to send out to the ranch, some forty miles distant,
for a conveyance