sides in scattered bands like elk. Here
and there a small cabin stood on the bank of a stream; but, for the most
part, the trail mounted the high slopes in perfect solitude.

The girl talked easily and leisurely, reading the brands of the ranchers,
revealing the number of cattle they owned, quite as a young farmer would
have done. She seemed not to be embarrassed in the slightest degree by
the fact that she was guiding a strange man over a lonely road, and gave
no outward sign of special interest in him till she suddenly turned to
ask: "What kind of a slicker--I mean a raincoat--did you bring?"

He looked blank. "I don't believe I brought any. I've a leather
shooting-jacket, however."

She shrugged her shoulders and looked up at the sky. "We're in for a
storm. You'd ought 'o have a slicker, no fancy 'raincoat,' but a real
old-fashioned cow-puncher's oilskin. They make a business of shedding
rain. Leather's no good, neither is canvas; I've tried 'em all."

She rode on for a few minutes in silence, as if disgusted with his folly,
but she was really worrying about him. "Poor chap," she said to herself.
"He can't stand a chill. I ought to have thought of his slicker myself.
He's helpless as a baby."

They were climbing fast now, winding upward along the bank of a stream,
and the sky had grown suddenly gray, and the woodland path was dark and
chill. The mountains were not less beautiful; but they were decidedly
less amiable, and the youth shivered, casting an apprehensive eye at the
thickening clouds.

Berea perceived something of his dismay, and, drawing rein, dismounted.
Behind her saddle was a tightly rolled bundle which, being untied and
shaken out, proved to be a horseman's rainproof oilskin coat. "Put this
on!" she commanded.

"Oh no," he protested, "I can't take your coat."

"Yes you can! You must! Don't you worry about me, I'm used to weather.
Put this on over your jacket and all. You'll need it. Rain won't hurt
_me_; but it will just about finish you."

The worst of this lay in its truth, and Norcross lost all his pride of
sex for the moment. A wetting would not dim this girl's splendid color,
nor reduce her vitality one degree, while to him it might be a
death-warrant. "You could throw me over my own horse," he admitted, in a
kind of bitter admiration, and slipped the coat on, shivering with cold
as he did so.

"You think me a poor excuse of a trailer, don't you?" he said, ruefully,
as the thunder began