summer, nohow, 'cept in town, an' I kin put 'em on when we git there. Why does folks wear 'em in town?"

"Why, because it is nicer, and—and people couldn't very well go around barefooted."

"I kin. I like to 'cept fer the prickly pears. Is they prickly pears in town?" Without waiting far a reply the girl chattered on, as she placed the offending stockings within her shoes and tossed them back upon the hay with which the wagon-box was filled. "I like to ride, don't you? We've got to ride all day an' then we'll git to town. We goin' to sleep in under the wagon?"

"Certainly not! We will go to the hotel."

"The hotel," breathed the girl, rapturously. "An' kin we eat there too?"

"Yes, we will eat there, too."

"An' kin I go to the store with yo'?"

"Yes."

Patty's answers became shorter as her attention centered upon a horseman who was negotiating the descent of what looked like an impossibly steep ridge.

"That's Buck!" exclaimed Microby Dandeline, as she followed the girl's gaze. The rider completed the descent of the ridge with an abrupt slide that obscured him in a cloud of dust from which he emerged to approach the trail at a swinging trot. Long before he was near enough for Patty to distinguish his features, she recognized him as her lone horseman of the hills. "If it is his intention to presume upon our chance meeting," she thought, "I'll——" The threat was unexpressed even in thought, but her lips tightened and she flushed hotly as she remembered how he had picked her up as though she had been a child and placed her in the saddle.

"Who did you say he is?" she asked, with a glance toward the girl at her side.

"He's Vil Holland, an' his hoss's name is Buck. I like him, only sometimes he chases me home."

"Vil Holland!" she exclaimed aloud, and her lips pressed tighter. So this man was Vil Holland—that Vil Holland, everybody called him. The man who had chased an inoffensive sheep herder from the range, and whose name stood for lawlessness in the hill country! So Aunt Rebecca's allusion to desperate characters had not been so far-fetched, after all. He looked the part. Patty's glance took in the vivid blue scarf with its fastening of polished buffalo horn, the huge revolver that swung in its holster, and the brown leather jug that dangled from the horn of his saddle.

"Good-mornin'!" He drew up beside the trail, and the girl reined in her horses, flushing slightly as she did so—she had meant to drive past without speaking. She acknowledged the greeting with a formal bow. The man ignored the frigidity.

"I see you found Watts's all right."

"Yes, thank you."

"Well, if there ain't Microby Dandeline! An' rigged out for who throw'd the chunk! Goin' to town to take in the picture show, an all the sights, I expect."

"We're goin' to the hotel," explained the girl proudly.

"My ain't that fine!"

"I got a red dress."

"Why so you have. Seein' you mentioned it, I can notice a shade of red to it. An' that bonnet just sets it off right. That'll make folks set up an' take notice, I'll bet."

"I'm a-goin' to the store, too."

"What do you think of that!" the man drew a half-dollar from his pockets. "Here, get you some candy an' take some home to the kids."

Microby reached for the coin, but Patty drew back her arm.

"Don't touch that!" she commanded sharply, then, with a withering look that encompassed both the man and his jug, she struck the horses with her whip and started down the trail.

"I could of boughten some candies," complained Microby Dandeline.

"I will buy you all the candy you want, but you must promise me never to take any money from men—and especially from that man."

Microby glanced back wistfully, and as the wagon rumbled on her eyes closed and her head began to nod.

"Why, child, you are sleepy!" exclaimed Patty, in surprise.

"Yes, mom. I reckon I laid awake all night a-thinkin' about goin' to town."

"If I were you I would lie down on the hay and take a nap."

The girl eyed the hay longingly and shook her head. "I like to ride," she objected, sleepily.

"You will be riding just the same."

"Yes but we might see somethin'. Onct we seen a nortymobile without no hosses an' hit squarked louder'n a settin' hen an' went faster'n what a hoss kin run."

"You go to sleep and if there is anything to see I'll wake you up. If you don't sleep now you'll have to sleep when you get to town and I'm sure you don't want to do that."

"No, mom. Mebbe ef I hurry up an' sleep fast they won't no nortymobiles come, but if they does, you wake me."

"I will," promised Patty, and thus assured the girl curled up in the hay and in a moment was fast asleep.

Hour after hour as the horses plodded along the interminable trail, Patty Sinclair sat upon the hard wooden seat, while her thoughts ranged from plans for locating her father's lost claim, to the arrangement of her cabin; and from Vil Holland to the welfare of the girl, a pathetic figure as she lay sprawled upon the hay, with her bare legs, and the gray dust settling thickly upon her red dress and vivid pink sunbonnet.