mind, and to bring the bright color into her
cheeks. Marjorie, glancing over her shoulder at her friend, suddenly
realized what a very pretty girl Undine was. Even the khaki skirt and
the sombrero, counterparts of Marjorie's own, could not detract from her
beauty, and she sat on her pony with as much grace as any lady in the
land.

"There! wasn't that great?" exclaimed Marjorie, drawing Roland in at
last, and turning to her friend, with sparkling eyes. "I don't believe
you ever had a finer gallop than that in your life."

"I don't believe I ever did," agreed Undine, straightening her sombrero,
and pushing back the tumbled hair from her eyes. "Must we go back now?"

"I'm afraid so. Father and Mother don't like to have me stay out after
sunset. Look at the mountains; they seem just as near as ever, don't
they? And yet we've been riding straight away from them all the time."

"Isn't it still?" whispered Undine, with a deep breath. "I feel as if I
ought to whisper, though I don't know why. I don't suppose there's
another living soul within miles of us, and yet I'm not the least bit
afraid."

"There is, though," exclaimed Marjorie, in sudden astonishment. "Look at
that man. Where can he be going?" And she pointed with her whip-handle
to a solitary figure, carrying a suit-case, which was slowly advancing
in their direction. "He isn't an Indian or a Mexican, either," she added
eagerly; "he's a white man, and he must be on his way to the ranch.
Nobody who isn't coming to the ranch ever takes this road."

"Perhaps he's a tramp," suggested Undine nervously. "We'd better hurry
home."

But Marjorie scorned the suggestion.

"Nonsense," she said indignantly. "The idea of wanting to run away!
Besides, we can't; he's making signs to us to wait for him. He wants to
speak to us."

Undine did not feel at all sure of the wisdom of this proceeding, but
there seemed nothing else to do, and in a few moments the stranger, who
had quickened his pace at sight of the two girls, was within speaking
distance. He was plentifully besprinkled with dust, and was looking
decidedly warm and tired, but his appearance and manner were those of a
gentleman.

"Excuse me for detaining you," he said, apologetically, "but can you
tell me how far I am from Mr. Donald Graham's ranch?"

"I thought you must be coming to the ranch," said Marjorie, with a
friendly smile; "it's about five miles from here."

"Five miles," repeated the stranger in a tone o