satisfaction. He should be obliged either to give up his seat, or to
share it for awhile; but then it was gratifying to know that the girl
had a heart for that view.

And the girl sat there wondering vaguely why she was not homesick.
Everything had been different from her anticipations. No one to meet her
at Springtown; no letter, no message at the hotel. She had had some
difficulty in learning how to reach Cameron City, and when, at last, she
had found herself in the forlorn little prairie train, steaming eastward
across the strange yellow expanse, unbroken by the smallest landmark,
she had been assailed by strange doubts and questionings. At Cameron
City, again, no longed-for, familiar face had appeared among the
loungers at the station, and the situation and her part in it seemed
most uncomfortable. When, however, she had made known her identity, and
word was passed that this was "Jake Stanwood's gal," there were prompt
offers of help, and she had soon secured the services of Cy Willows and
his "team."

As she sat in the doorway, watching the glowing light, the sun dropped
behind the Peak. She remembered how Cy had said he "hadn't never heard
Jake Stanwood speak of havin' a gal of his own." The shadow of the great
mountain had fallen upon the plain, and a chill, half imaginary, half
real, possessed itself of her. Was she homesick after all? She stood up
and stepped out upon the prairie, which had never yielded an inch of
space before the cabin door. Off to the southward was a field of
half-grown alfalfa that had taken on a weird, uncanny green in the first
sunless light. She looked across to the remote prairie, and there, on
the far horizon, the sunlight still shone, a golden circlet. No. She was
not homesick; anything but that! She had been homesick almost ever since
she could remember, but now she was in her father's house and everything
must be well.

When Stanwood came to look for her he found her surrounded by the
assiduous collies, examining with much interest the tall, ungainly
windmill, with its broad wooden flaps.

On the whole, their first evening together was a pleasant one. Stanwood
listened with amused appreciation to the account of her journey. She
would be a credit to his name, he thought, out there in the old familiar
world which he should never see again.

He had relinquished to her the seat on the door-step, and himself sat on
a saw-horse outside the door, where the lamp-light struck his face.