sure; and his boy worship of the teacher yielded
her to a fitting rival. He stepped behind and walked beside the pony,
who was following his master meekly, as though he, too, were under the
young man's charm.

"Oh, and this is my friend, William Tanner," spoke Margaret, turning
toward the boy loyally, (Whatever good angel made her call him William?
Bud's soul swelled with new dignity as he blushed and acknowledged the
introduction by a grin.)

"Glad to know you, Will," said the new-comer, extending his hand in a
hearty shake that warmed the boy's heart in a trice. "I'm glad Miss
Earle has so good a protector. You'll have to look out for her. She's
pretty plucky and is apt to stray around the wilderness by herself. It
isn't safe, you know, boy, for such as her. Look after her, will you?"

"Right I will," said Bud, accepting the commission as if it were
Heaven-sent, and thereafter walked behind the two with his head in the
clouds. He felt that he understood this great hero of the plains and was
one with him at heart. There could be no higher honor than to be the
servitor of this man's lady. Bud did not stop to question how the new
teacher became acquainted with the young rider of the plains. It was
enough that both were young and handsome and seemed to belong together.
He felt they were fitting friends.

The little procession walked down the road slowly, glad to prolong the
way. The young man had brought her handkerchief, a filmy trifle of an
excuse that she had dropped behind her chair at the bunk-house, where it
had lain unnoticed till she was gone. He produced it from his inner
pocket, as though it had been too precious to carry anywhere but over
his heart, yet there was in his manner nothing presuming, not a hint of
any intimacy other than their chance acquaintance of the wilderness
would warrant. He did not look at her with any such look as West had
given every time he spoke to her. She felt no desire to resent his
glance when it rested upon her almost worshipfully, for there was
respect and utmost humility in his look.

The men had sent gifts: some arrow-heads and a curiously fashioned
vessel from the canon of the cave-dwellers; some chips from the
petrified forest; a fern with wonderful fronds, root and all; and a
sheaf of strange, beautiful blossoms carefully wrapped in wet paper, and
all fastened to the saddle.

Margaret's face kindled with interest as he showed them to her one by
one, and told her the his