a ride through the adjacent canyon on the second morning, they had no
difficulty in finding horses in the well-furnished stables of their
opulent entertainers, nor cavaliers among the other guests, who were
too happy to find favor in the eyes of the two pretty girls who were
supposed to be abnormally fastidious and refined. Christie's escort
was a good-natured young banker, shrewd enough to avoid demonstrative
attentions, and lucky enough to interest her during the ride with his
clear and half-humorous reflections on some of the business speculations
of the day. If his ideas were occasionally too clever, and not always
consistent with a high sense of honor, she was none the less interested
to know the ethics of that world of speculation into which her father
had plunged, and the more convinced, with mingled sense of pride and
anxiety, that his still dominant gentlemanhood would prevent his coping
with it on equal terms. Nor could she help contrasting the conversation
of the sharp-witted man at her side with what she still remembered of
the vague, touching, boyish enthusiasm of the millionaires of Devil's
Ford. Had her escort guessed the result of this contrast, he would
hardly have been as gratified as he was with the grave attention of her
beautiful eyes.

The fascination of a gracious day and the leafy solitude of the canyon
led them to prolong their ride beyond the proposed limit, and it became
necessary towards sunset for them to seek some shorter cut home.

"There's a vaquero in yonder field," said Christie's escort, who was
riding with her a little in advance of the others, "and those fellows
know every trail that a horse can follow. I'll ride on, intercept him,
and try my Spanish on him. If I miss him, as he's galloping on, you
might try your hand on him yourself. He'll understand your eyes, Miss
Carr, in any language."