ext town. He explained that there was a ranch half-way there where they
might stop all night.

She was troubled at the thought of another ranch. She knew there would be
more questions, and perhaps other disagreeable words said; but she held
her peace, listening to his plans. Her wonder was great over the telegram.
She knew little or nothing about modern discoveries. It was a mystery to
her how he could receive word by morning from a place that it had taken
them nearly two days to leave behind, and how had he sent a message over a
wire? Yes, she had heard of telegrams, but had never been quite sure they
were true. When he saw that she was interested, he went on to tell her of
other wonderful triumphs of science, the telephone, the electric light,
gas, and the modern system of water-works. She listened as if it were all
a fairy tale. Sometimes she looked at him, and wondered whether it could
be true, or whether he were not making fun of her; but his earnest, honest
eyes forbade doubt.

At the ranch they found two women, a mother and her daughter. The man
asked frankly whether they could take care of this young friend of his
overnight, saying that she was going on to the town in the morning, and
was in his care for the journey. This seemed to relieve all suspicion. The
two girls eyed each other, and then smiled.

"I'm Myrtle Baker," said the ranch-owner's daughter. "Come; I'll take you
where you can wash your hands and face, and then we'll have some supper."

Myrtle Baker was a chatterer by nature. She talked incessantly; and,
though she asked many questions, she did not wait for half of them to be
answered. Besides, the traveller had grown wary. She did not intend to
talk about the relationship between herself and her travelling companion.
There was a charm in Myrtle's company which made the girl half regret
leaving the next morning, as they did quite early, amid protests from
Myrtle and her mother, who enjoyed a visitor in their isolated home.

But the ride that morning was constrained. Each felt in some subtle way
that their pleasant companionship was coming to a crisis. Ahead in that
town would be letters, communications from the outside world of friends,
people who did not know or care what these two had been through together,
and who would not hesitate to separate them with a firm hand. Neither put
this thought into words, but it was there in their hearts, in the form of
a vague fear. They talked very little, but