nor a tree broke
the monotony. The ground appeared to be flat, but the road went up and
down over little ridges. Madeline glanced backward in the direction of
El Cajon and the mountains she had seen the day before, and she saw only
bare and dark ground, like that which rolled before.

A puff of cold wind struck her face and she shivered. Florence noticed
her and pulled up the second robe and tucked it closely round her up to
her chin.

"If we have a little wind you'll sure feel it," said the Western girl.

Madeline replied that she already felt it. The wind appeared to
penetrate the robes. It was cold, pure, nipping. It was so thin she had
to breathe as fast as if she were under ordinary exertion. It hurt her
nose and made her lungs ache.

"Aren't you co-cold?" asked Madeline.

"I?" Florence laughed. "I'm used to it. I never get cold."

The Western girl sat with ungloved hands on the outside of the robe she
evidently did not need to draw up around her. Madeline thought she had
never seen such a clear-eyed, healthy, splendid girl.

"Do you like to see the sun rise?" asked Florence.

"Yes, I think I do," replied Madeline, thoughtfully. "Frankly, I have
not seen it for years."

"We have beautiful sunrises, and sunsets from the ranch are glorious."

Long lines of pink fire ran level with the eastern horizon, which
appeared to recede as day brightened. A bank of thin, fleecy clouds was
turning rose. To the south and west the sky was dark; but every moment
it changed, the blue turning bluer. The eastern sky was opalescent. Then
in one place gathered a golden light, and slowly concentrated till it
was like fire. The rosy bank of cloud turned to silver and pearl, and
behind it shot up a great circle of gold. Above the dark horizon gleamed
an intensely bright disk. It was the sun. It rose swiftly, blazing out
the darkness between the ridges and giving color and distance to the
sweep of land.

"Wal, wal," drawled Stillwell, and stretched his huge arms as if he had
just awakened, "thet's somethin' like."

Florence nudged Madeline and winked at her.

"Fine mawnin', girls," went on old Bill, cracking his whip. "Miss
Majesty, it'll be some oninterestin' ride all mawnin'. But when we get
up a bit you'll sure like it. There! Look to the southwest, jest over
thet farthest ridge."

Madeline swept her gaze along the gray, sloping horizon-line to where
dark-blue spires rose far beyond the ridge.

"Peloncillo Mountains,"