rider's pilgrimages past the car
window? Both had maligned the rider. But the girl had seen intelligence on
the face of the rider, and something in the set of his head had told her
that he was not a criminal. And despite his picturesque rigging, and the
atmosphere of the great waste places that seemed to envelop him, he had
made a deeper impression on her than had Corrigan, darkly handsome,
well-groomed, a polished product of polite convention and breeding, whom
her father wanted her to marry.

"Well," she said, looking at the black horse; "I intend to observe Manti's
citizens more closely before attempting to express an opinion."

Half an hour later, in response to Corrigan's invitation, Rosalind was
walking down Manti's one street, Corrigan beside her. Corrigan had donned
khaki clothing, a broad, felt hat, boots, neckerchief. But in spite of the
change of garments there was a poise, an atmosphere about him, that hinted
strongly of the graces of civilization. Rosalind felt a flash of pride in
him. He was big, masterful, fascinating.

Manti seemed to be fraudulent, farcical, upon closer inspection. For one
thing, its crudeness was more glaring, and its unpainted board fronts
looked flimsy, transient. Compared to the substantial buildings of the
East, Manti's structures were hovels. Here was the primitive town in the
first flush of its creation. Miss Benham did not laugh, for a mental
picture rose before her--a bit of wild New England coast, a lowering sky,
a group of Old-world pilgrims shivering around a blazing fire in the open,
a ship in the offing. That also was a band of first citizens; that picture
and the one made by Manti typified the spirit of America.

There were perhaps twenty buildings. Corrigan took her into several of
them. But, she noted, he did not take her into the store in front of which
was the black horse. She was introduced to several of the proprietors.
Twice she overheard parts of the conversation carried on between Corrigan
and the proprietors. In each case the conversation was the same:

"Do you own this property?"

"The building."

"Who owns the land?"

"A company in New York."

Corrigan introduced himself as the manager of the company, and spoke of
erecting an office. The two men spoke about their "leases." The latter
seemed to have been limited to two months.

"See me before your lease expires," she heard Corrigan tell the men.

"Does the railroad own the town site?" asked Rosalin