e into town riding a fine bay pony, and leading a
blaze-face buckskin behind her.

Her face shone cordially, as she called out: "Well, how do you stack up
this morning?"

"Tip-top," he answered, in an attempt to match her cheery greeting.

"Do you like our town better?"

"Not a bit! But the hills are magnificent."

"Anybody turned up from the mill?"

"No, I haven't heard a word from there. The telephone is still out of
commission."

"They can't locate the break. Uncle Joe sent word by the stage-driver
asking us to keep an eye out for you and send you over. I've come to take
you over myself."

"That's mighty good of you; but it's a good deal to ask."

"I want to see Uncle Joe on business, anyhow, and you'll like the ride
better than the journey by stage."

Leaving the horses standing with their bridle-reins hanging on the
ground, she led the way to the office.

"When father comes in, tell him where I've gone, and send Mr. Norcross's
packs by the first wagon. Is your outfit ready?" she asked.

"Not quite. I can get it ready soon."

He hurried away in pleasant excitement, and in twenty minutes was at the
door ready to ride.

"You'd better take my bay," said Berea. "Old Paint-face there is a little
notional."

Norcross approached his mount with a caution which indicated that he had
at least been instructed in range-horse psychology, and as he gathered
his reins together to mount, Berrie remarked:

"I hope you're saddle-wise."

"I had a few lessons in a riding-school," he replied, modestly.

Young Downing approached the girl with a low-voiced protest: "You
oughtn't to ride old Paint. He nearly pitched the Supervisor the other
day."

"I'm not worried," she said, and swung to her saddle.

The ugly beast made off in a tearing sidewise rush, but she smilingly
called back: "All set." And Norcross followed her in high admiration.

Eventually she brought her bronco to subjection, and they trotted off
together along the wagon-road quite comfortably. By this time the youth
had forgotten his depression, his homesickness of the morning. The valley
was again enchanted ground. Its vistas led to lofty heights. The air was
regenerative, and though a part of this elation was due, no doubt, to the
power of his singularly attractive guide, he laid it discreetly to the
climate.

After shacking along between some rather sorry fields of grain for a mile
or two, Berea swung into a side-trail. "I want you to meet my mo