he was to have found so charming a girl
in this raw wilderness.

As a city man, he might have considered the healthy color that glowed
under the tan of her cheeks a trifle too pronounced, had it not been
offset by the delicate mold of her features. Her eyes were as blue as
alpine forget-me-nots.

Though she sat astride and the soft coils of her chestnut hair were
covered with a broad-brimmed felt hat, he was puzzled to find that
there really was nothing of the Wild West cowgirl in her costume and
bearing. Her modest gray riding dress was cut in the very latest
style. If her manner differed from that of most young ladies of his
acquaintance, it was only in her delightful frankness and total
absence of affectation. Yet she could not be a city girl on a visit,
for she sat her horse with the erect, long-stirruped, graceful,
yielding seat peculiar to riders of the cattle ranges.

"Do you know," he gave voice to his curiosity, as she directed their
course slantingly down the ridge away from Deep Canyon, "I am simply
dying to learn, Miss Chuckie--"

"Perhaps you had better make it 'Miss Knowles,'" she suggested, with a
quiet smile that checked the familiarity of his manner.

"Ah, yes--pardon me!--'Miss Knowles,' of course," he murmured. "But,
you know, so unusual a name--"

"You mean Chuckie?" she asked. "It formerly was quite common in the
West--was often used as a nickname. My real name is Isobel. I
understand that Chuckie comes from the Spanish Chiquita."

"Chiquita!" he exclaimed. "But that is not a regular name. It is only
a term of endearment, like Nina. And you say Chuckie comes from
Chiquita? Chiquita--dear one!"

His large dark eyes glowed at her brilliant with audacious admiration.
Her color deepened, but she replied with perfect composure: "You see
why I prefer to be addressed as 'Miss Knowles'--by you."

"Yet you permitted that common cowpuncher to call you Miss Chuckie."

The girl smiled ironically. "For one thing, Mr. Ashton, I have known
Kid Gowan over eight years, and, for another, he is hardly a _common_
cowpuncher."

"He looks ordinary enough to me."

"Well, well!" she rallied. "I should have thought that even to the
innocent gaze of a tenderfoot--Let me hasten to explain that the
common or garden variety of cowshepherd is to be distinguished in many
respects from his predecessor of the Texas trail."

"Texas trail?" he rejoined. "Now I know you're trying to string me.
This Gowan can't be much