und that this careful settler had made
full provision against such a contingency as was now come about. The
farm buildings, implements, stables, everything was surrounded, not by a
fire-guard, but by a broad plowed field. Mrs. Lint, however, was little
less thankful for Zen's interest than she would have been had their
little steading been in danger. She pressed Zen to wait and have at
least a cup of tea, and the girl, knowing that she could be of little
or no service down the valley, allowed herself to be persuaded. In this
little harbor of quiet her mind began to arrange the day's events. The
tragic happening at the river was as yet too recent to appear real; had
it not been for the touch of her wet clothing Zen could have thought
that all an unhappy dream of days ago. She reflected that neither
Tompkins nor Mrs. Lint had commented upon her appearance. The hot sun
had soon dried her outer apparel, and her general dishevelled condition
was not remarkable on such a day as this.

The wind had gone down as the afternoon waned, and the fire was working
up the valley leisurely when Zen set out on her return trip. A couple of
miles from the Lint homestead she met its advance guard. It was evening
now; the sun shone dull red through the banked clouds of smoke resting
against the mountains to the west; the flames danced and flickered,
advanced and receded, sprang up and died down again, along mile after
mile of front. It was a beautiful thing to behold, and Zen drew her
horse to a stop on a hill-top to take in the grandeur of the scene. Near
at hand frolicking flames were working about the base of the hill,
and far down the valley and over the foothills the flanks of the fire
stretched like lines of impish infantry in single file.

Suddenly she heard the sound of hoofs, and a rider drew up at her side.
She supposed him one of Transley's men, but could not recall having seen
him in the camp. He sat his horse with an ease and grace that her eye
was quick to appraise; he removed his broad felt hat before he spoke;
and he did not call her "ma'am."

"Pardon me--I believe I am speaking to Y.D.'s daughter?" he asked, and
before waiting for a reply hastened to introduce himself. "My name is
Dennison Grant, foreman on the Landson ranch."

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I thought--I thought you were one of Mr.
Transley's men." Then, with a quick sense of the barrier between them,
she added, "I hope you don't think that I--that we--had anythin