hen she reached
the point where she cut off the trail to the left. Thereafter, with the
monuments standing ever higher, and the distance perceptibly lessening,
the minutes passed less tediously.

At length she reached the zone of lofty rocks, and found them
different, how, she could not tell. She rode down among them, and was
glad when she saw the huge mittens--her landmarks. At last she espied
the green-bordered wash and the few cedar-trees. Then a horse blazed
red against the sage and another shone black. That sight made Lucy
thrill. She rode on, eager now, but moved by the strangeness of the
experience.

Before she got quite close to the cedars she saw a man. He took a few
slow steps out of the shade. His back was bent. Lucy recognized the
rider, and in her gladness to see him on his feet she cried out. Then,
when Sage King reached the spot, Lucy rolled the pack off to the ground.

"Oh, that was a job!" she cried.

The rider looked up with eyes that seemed keener, less staring than she
remembered. "You came? ... I was afraid you wouldn't," he said.

"Sure I came.... You're better--not badly hurt?" she said, gravely,
"I--I'm so glad."

"I've got a crimp in my back, that's all."

Lucy was quick to see that after the first glance at her he was all
eyes for Sage King. She laughed. How like a rider! She watched him,
knowing that presently he would realize what a horse she was riding.
She slipped off and threw the bridle, and then, swiftly untying the
second pack, she laid it down.

The rider, with slow, painful steps and bent back, approached Sage King
and put a lean, strong, brown hand on him, and touched him as if he
wished to feel if he were real. Then he whistled softly. When he turned
to Lucy his eyes shone with a beautiful light.

"It's Sage King, Bostil's favorite," said Lucy.

"Sage King! ... He looks it.... But never a wild horse?"

"No."

"A fine horse," replied the rider. "Of course he can run?" This last
held a note of a rider's jealousy.

Lucy laughed. "Run! ... The King is Bostil's favorite. He can run away
from any horse in the uplands."

"I'll bet you Wildfire can beat him," replied the rider, with a dark
glance.

"Come on!" cried Lucy, daringly.

Then the rider and girl looked more earnestly at each other. He smiled
in a way that changed his face--brightened out the set hardness.

"I reckon I'll have to crawl," he said, ruefully. "But maybe I can ride
in a few days--if you'll come b