left him some distance behind. Unperceived by her a shade of annoyance
had passed over the Californian's face at her seeming reluctance to
tell him where she lived. The quick of his Spanish pride was touched;
and with a wave of his sombrero he had pulled his horse down on his
haunches. Of no avail now was her resolution to let him know the
whereabouts of the camp at any cost, for already his "_Adios, Señorita_"
was sounding faintly in her ears.

With a little cry of vexation, scarcely audible, the young woman flung
herself back on the seat. She was only a girl with all a girl's ways,
and like most of her sex, however practical her life thus far, she
was not without dreams of a romance. This meeting with the handsome
_caballero_ was the nearest she had come to having one. True, there was
scarcely a man at Cloudy but what had tried at one time or another to go
beyond the stage of good comradeship; but none of them had approached
the idealistic vision of the hero that was all the time lying dormant in
her mind. Of course, being a girl, and almost a queen in her own little
sphere, she accepted their rough homage in a manner that was befitting
to such an exalted personage, and gave nothing in return. But now
something was stirring within her of which she knew nothing; a feeling
was creeping over her that she could not analyse; she was conscious only
of the fact that with the departure of this attractive stranger, who had
taken no pains to conceal his admiration for her, her journey had been
robbed of all its joy.

A hundred yards further on, therefore, she could not resist the
temptation to put her head out of the stage and look back at the place
where she had last seen him.

He was still sitting quietly on his horse at the place where they had