"Things happen, Miss Hammond," she said, soberly, almost sadly.

Madeline thought. And then straightway Florence began brightly
to hum a tune and to busy herself repacking what was left of the
lunch. Madeline conceived a strong liking and respect for this
Western girl. She admired the consideration or delicacy or
wisdom--what-ever it was--which kept Florence from asking her
what she knew or thought or felt about the events that had taken
place.

Soon they were once more bowling along the road down a gradual
incline, and then they began to climb a long ridge that had for
hours hidden what lay beyond. That climb was rather tiresome,
owing to the sun and the dust and the restricted view.

When they reached the summit Madeline gave a little gasp of
pleasure. A deep, gray, smooth valley opened below and sloped up
on the other side in little ridges like waves, and these led to
the foothills, dotted with clumps of brush or trees, and beyond
rose dark mountains, pine-fringed and crag-spired.

"Wal, Miss Majesty, now we're gettin' somewhere," said Stillwell,
cracking his whip. "Ten miles across this valley an' we'll be in
the foothills where the Apaches used to run."

"Ten miles!" exclaimed Madeline. "It looks no more than half a
mile to me."

"Wal, young woman, before you go to ridin' off alone you want to
get your eyes corrected to Western distance. Now, what'd you