"I took it for granted. I was sent to meet a Miss Whitmore at the
train, and I took the only lady in sight."

"You took the right one--but I'm not--I haven't the faintest idea who
you are."

"My name is Claude Bennett, and I'm happy to make your acquaintance."

"I don't believe it--you don't look happy," said Miss Whitmore, inwardly
amused.

"That's the proper thing to say when you've been introduced to a lady,"
remarked Chip, noncommittally, though his lips twitched at the corners.

Miss Whitmore, finding no ready reply to this truthful statement,
remarked, after a pause, that it was windy. Chip agreed that it was,
and conversation languished.

Miss Whitmore sighed and took to studying the landscape, which had
become a succession of sharp ridges and narrow coulees, water-worn
and bleak, with a purplish line of mountains off to the left. After
several miles she spoke.

"What is that animal over there? Do dogs wander over this wilderness
alone?"

Chip's eyes followed her pointing finger.

"That's a coyote. I wish I could get a shot at him--they're an awful