an to
be rude. But the riders did fascinate me. I am spellbound. I only
wished to see if the charm would hold. I have not been in the West
before this." She held out her hand, slender, white, appealing.

[Illustration: "I beg your pardon," she said, sweetly, unsmilingly, "I
did not mean to be rude."]

The man looked at her curiously in turn, then he jerked off his
sombrero and took her hand in his. There was the contact, soft white
skin of the city, hard brown hand of the mountain plains, and human
blood is swift to leap in response to an unwonted touch.

Connie drew her hand away quickly, but his eyes still held hers.

"Let me beg your pardon instead," he said. "Of course you did not mean
it the way it sounded. None of my business, anyhow."

"Come on, Prince," called a man from the road, curbing his impatient
horse. But "Prince" waved him away without turning.

This was a wonderful girl.

"I--I write stories," Connie explained hurriedly, to get away from that
searching clasp of glances. "I wanted some literary material, and I
seemed so far away from everything. I thought I needed the personal
touch, you know."

"Anything I can tell you?" he offered feverishly. "I know all about
range and ranch life. I can tell you anything you want to know."

"Really? And will you do it? You know writers have just got to get
material. It is absolutely necessary. And I am running very short of
ideas, I have been loafing."

He waited patiently. He was more than willing to tell her everything
he knew, or could make up to please her, but he had not the slightest
idea what she wanted. Whatever it was, he certainly intended to make
the effort of his life to give her.

"I am Constance Starr," said Connie, still more abashed by the
unfaltering presence of this curious creature, who, she fully realized
at last, was quite human enough for any literary purpose. "And this is
my brother-in-law, Mr. Duke, and my sister, Mrs. Duke."

"My name is Prince Ingram."

David shook hands with him cordially, with smiling eyes, and asked him
to sit down so Connie might ask her questions in comfort. They all
took chairs, and Prince waited. Connie racked her brain. Five minutes
ago there had been ten thousand things she yearned to know about this
strange existence. Now, unfairly, she could not think of one. It
seemed to her she knew all there was to know about them. They looked
into each other's eyes, men and women, as m