"You're the young ladies who are homesteading just south of here,
aren't you?" he inquired, politely.

"Yes, two miles south on Sarita Creek," the smaller answered. Then
after an appraising regard of him she continued, "We took our claims
only last April. And they're not very good claims, either, we're
beginning to fear; the creek goes dry about this time. That's why no
one had filed on the locations before. Have you a ranch somewhere
near?"

"No. That is, not yet. I'm a civil engineer, but I'm thinking strongly
of settling down here. If I do, we shall be neighbours. My name is Lee
Bryant; this is my horse Dick; and I've a dog called Mike, which
stopped aways back on the road to investigate a prairie dog hole. Now
you know who we are," he concluded, with a smile.

The girl thereupon told him her name was Ruth Gardner and that of her
companion Imogene Martin.

"We'll be very glad to have you call at our little ranch when you're
riding by," Ruth Gardner said, graciously. "Aside from Imogene's uncle
and aunt, who live in Kennard and who've come to see us several
times, we've not had a single visitor in the three months and a half
we've been there, except once an old Mexican who was herding sheep
near by and came to ask for matches. Of course, not many people know
we're there, I imagine. From the road one can't see our cabins--we had
to have two, you know, one for each claim, and they sit side by
side--because they're in the mouth of the cañon among the trees. It's
really cool and pleasant there during the heat of the day. Any time
you come, you'll be welcome."