The conversation drifted to mines and mining. Mrs. Weston declared that
she had never seen a gold mine, but that her husband owned some stock
in one of the richest mines in Old Mexico. Waring grew enthusiastic as
he described mine operating in detail, touching the subject with the
ease of experience, yet lightly enough to avoid wearisome
technicalities. The girl listened, occasionally stealing a glance at the
man's profile in the dusk. She thought the boy Lorry looked exceedingly
like Mr. Waring.

And the person who looked exceedingly like Mr. Waring sat at the far end
of the veranda, talking to Buck Hardy, the sheriff. And Lorry was not
altogether happy. His interest in the capture and reward had waned. He
had never dreamed that a girl could be so captivating as Alice Weston.
At supper she had talked with him about the range, asking many
questions; but she had not referred to that morning. Lorry had hoped
that he might talk with her after supper. But somehow or other she had
managed to evade his efforts. Just now she seemed to be mightily
interested in his father.

Presently Lorry rose and strode across the street to the station. He
talked with the agent, who showed him a telegraph duplicate for an order
on Albuquerque covering a steering-knuckle for an automobile. When Lorry
reappeared he was whistling. It would take some time for that
steering-knuckle to arrive. Meanwhile, he was out of work, and the
Westons would be at the hotel for several days at least.

There was some mighty fine scenery back in the Horseshoe Range, west.
Perhaps the girl liked Western scenery. He wondered if she knew how to
ride. He was rather inclined to think that her mother did not. He would
suggest a trip to the Horseshoe Mountains, as it would be pretty dull at