"Good morning," said the man politely. "I hope I haven't disturbed your
nap."

The girl eyed him solemnly, and said nothing. This was a new kind of man.
He was not like the one from whom she had fled, nor like any she had ever
seen; but he might be a great deal worse. She had heard that the world was
full of wickedness.

"You see," went on the man with an apologetic smile, which lit up his eyes
in a wonderfully winning way, "you led me such a desperate race nearly all
day yesterday that I was obliged to keep you in sight when I finally
caught you."

He looked for an answering smile, but there was none. Instead, the girl's
dark eyes grew wide and purple with fear. He was the same one, then, that
she had seen in the afternoon, the voice who had cried to her; and he had
been pursuing her. He was an enemy, perhaps, sent by the man from whom she
fled. She grasped her pistol with trembling fingers, and tried to think
what to say or do.

The young man wondered at the formalities of the plains. Were all these
Western maidens so reticent?

"Why did you follow me? Who did you think I was?" she asked breathlessly
at last.

"Well, I thought you were a man," he said; "at least, you appeared to be a
human being, and not a wild animal. I hadn't seen anything but wild
animals for six hours, and very few of those; so I followed you."