adventurer, the promoter, the Indian, the Mexican, the frontier
business man and the tourist.

But there were few of the citizens of Rubio City now who knew the
story of the baby girl whom Jefferson Worth and his party had found
in La Palma de la Mano de Dios. For, though Rubio City was changed
but little since that day when Texas Joe brought the outfit with the
child safely out of the Desert, the people came and went always as
is the manner of their moving kind. The few "old-timers" who
remained had long ceased to tell the story. No one thought of the
young woman, who rode down the street that afternoon, save only as
the daughter of Jefferson Worth.

As she passed, the people turned to follow her with their eyes--the
"old-timers" with smiles of recognition and picturesque words of
admiring comment; the townspeople with cheerful greetings--a wave of
the hand or a nod when they caught her eye; the strangers from the
East with curious interest and ready kodaks. Here, the visitors told
themselves, was the real West.

"How interesting!" gasped a tailor-made woman tourist to her escort.
"Look, George, she is wearing a divided skirt and riding a man's
saddle! And look! quick! where's your camera? She has a revolver!"

That revolver, a dainty but effective pearl-handled weapon, was a
gift to Barbara from her "uncles," Texas and Pat; and though
ornamental was not for ornament. The girl often went alone, as she
was going to-day, for a long ride out on the Mesa, and the country
still harbored many wild and lawless characters.