m she could not keep from looking at him. His fresh color, which
no wind and weather could quite subdue, his gray-blue eyes with that
mixture of thoughtfulness and reverence and daring, his crisp, brown
curls glinting with gold in the sunlight--all made him good to look
upon. There was something about the firm set of his lips and chin that
made her feel a hidden strength about him.

When they camped a little while for lunch he showed the thoughtfulness
and care for her comfort that many an older man might not have had. Even
his talk was a mixture of boyishness and experience and he seemed to
know her thoughts before she had them fully spoken.

"I do not understand it," she said, looking him frankly in the eyes at
last. "How ever in the world did one like _you_ get landed among all
those dreadful men! Of course, in their way, some of them are not so
bad; but they are not like you, not in the least, and never could be."

They were riding out upon the plain now in the full afternoon light, and
a short time would bring them to her destination.

A sad, set look came quickly into the Boy's eyes and his face grew
almost hard.

"It's an old story. I suppose you've heard it before," he said, and his
voice tried to take on a careless note, but failed. "I didn't make good
back there"--he waved his hand sharply toward the East--"so I came out
here to begin again. But I guess I haven't made good here, either--not
in the way I meant when I came."

"You can't, you know," said Margaret. "Not here."

"Why?" He looked at her earnestly, as if he felt the answer might help
him.

"Because you have to go back where you didn't make good and pick up the
lost opportunities. You can't really make good till you do that _right
where you left off_."

"But suppose it's too late?"

"It's never too late if we're in earnest and not too proud."

There was a long silence then, while the Boy looked thoughtfully off at
the mountains, and when he spoke again it was to call attention to the
beauty of a silver cloud that floated lazily on the horizon. But
Margaret Earle had seen the look in his gray eyes and was not deceived.

A few minutes later they crossed another mesa and descended to the
enterprising little town where the girl was to begin her winter's work.
The very houses and streets seemed to rise briskly and hasten to meet
them those last few minutes of their ride.

Now that the experience was almost over, the girl realized that she ha