ode on beside her, with no very distinct
misgiving in his mind. He had, to be sure, been somewhat daunted once or
twice before, by a curious, intermittent asperity in her, which he could
not quite account for. Yet why should he expect to account for every
changing mood in this uniquely charming being? Had he not perceived from
the beginning that she was not fashioned quite after the usual pattern?

They had met, the previous autumn, in the quaint old New England town
where his people lived. She had come like a bit of the young West into
the staid, old-fashioned setting of the place, and he had rejoiced in
every trait that distinguished her from the conventional young lady of
his acquaintance. To-day, as they rode side by side toward the
broad-bosomed mountain to the southward, he told himself once more that
her nature was like this Colorado atmosphere, in its absolute clearness
and crispness. Such an air,--bracing, stinging, as it sometimes
was,--could never turn really harsh and easterly; neither, perhaps,
could it ever take on the soft languor of the summer sea. And Amy
Lovejoy's nature would always have the finer, more individual quality of
the high, pure altitude in which she had been reared. Possibly Stephen
Burns had yet something to learn about that agreeable climate with which
he was so ready to compare his love. The weather had been perfect since
he came to Colorado. How could he suspect the meaning of a tiny wisp of
vapor too slight to cast a visible shadow?

And Amy chatted gaily on with Jack Hersey, as they cantered southward,
while Stephen Burns, riding beside them, told himself with needless
reiteration, that he was well content. One reason for content he
certainly had at that moment, for he was a good horseman, as an
accomplished gentleman is bound to be, and he was never quite insensible
to the exhilaration of that delicious, rhythmic motion.

They had passed through a gate which signified that the rolling acres of
prairie on either hand, the winding road that lost itself in the
distance, the pine-clad slope to the right, were all but a part of a
great ranch. Herds of cattle were doubtless pastured within that
enclosure, though nowhere visible to the holiday party riding and
driving over their domain. Hundreds of prairie-dog holes dotted the
vast field on either hand, and here and there one of the odd little
fraternity scampered like a ball of gray cotton across the field, or sat
erect beside his hole,