"Up in the mountains back of my ranch there's a lost mine," said
Stillwell. "Mebbe it's only a legend. But somehow I believe
it's there. Other lost mines hev been found. An' as fer' the
rollin' stones, I sure know thet's true, as any one can find out
if he goes trailin' up the gulch. Mebbe thet's only the
weatherin' of the cliffs. It's a sleepy, strange country, this
Southwest, an', Miss Majesty, you're a-goin' to love it. You'll
call it ro-mantic, Wal, I reckon ro-mantic is correct. A feller
gets lazy out hyar an' dreamy, an' he wants to put off work till
to-morrow. Some folks say it's a land of manana--a land of
to-morrow. Thet's the Mexican of it.

"But I like best to think of what a lady said to me onct--an
eddicated lady like you, Miss Majesty. Wal, she said it's a land
where it's always afternoon. I liked thet. I always get up sore
in the mawnin's, an' don't feel good till noon. But in the
afternoon I get sorta warm an' like things. An' sunset is my
time. I reckon I don't want nothin' any finer than sunset from
my ranch. You look out over a valley that spreads wide between
Guadalupe Mountains an' the Chiricahuas, down across the red
Arizona desert clear to the Sierra Madres in Mexico. Two hundred
miles, Miss Majesty! An' all as clear as print! An' the sun
sets behind all thet! When my time comes to die I'd like it to be
on my porch smokin' my pipe an' facin' the west."

So the old cattleman talked on while Madeline listened, and
Florence dozed in her seat, and the sun began to wane, and the
horses climbed steadily. Presently, at the foot of the steep
ascent, Stillwell got out and walked, leading the team. During
this long climb fatigue claimed Madeline, and she drowsily closed