He enjoyed again his private mirth. "I should like right well to
have the pictures of some of them."

She glanced at him sharply, but he was gazing so innocently at
the purple Shoshones in the distance that she could not give him
the snub she thought he needed.

"You are right. My name is Helen Messiter," she said, by way of
stimulating a counter fund of information. For, though she was a
young woman not much given to curiosity, she was aware of an
interest in this spare, broad-shouldered youth who was such an
incarnation of bronzed vigor.

"Glad to meet y'u, Miss Messiter," he responded, and offered his
firm brown hand in Western fashion.

But she observed resentfully that he did not mention his own
name. It was impossible to suppose that he knew no better, and
she was driven to conclude that he was silent of set purpose.
Very well! If he did not want to introduce himself she was not
going to urge it upon him. In a businesslike manner she gave her
attention to eating up the dusty miles.

"Yes, ma'am. I reckon I never was more glad to death to meet a
lady than I was to meet up with y'u," he continued, cheerily.
"Y'u sure looked good to me as y'u come a-foggin' down the road.
I fair had been yearnin' for company but was some discouraged for
fear the invitation had miscarried." He broke off his sardonic
raillery and let his level gaze possess her for a long moment.
"Miss Messiter, I'm certainly under an obligation to y'u I can't