estrians and vehicles and
animals there congregated, the challenges of the street gamblers having
assailed us in vain, we proceeded--our Mormons gazing straight ahead,
scornful of the devil's enticements, our few Gentiles responding in kind
to the quips and waves and salutations.

Thus we eventually left Benton; in about an hour's march or some three
miles out we formed corral for camp on the farther side of the road from
the railroad tracks which we had been skirting.

Travel, except upon the tracks (for they were rarely vacant) ceased at
sundown; and we all, having eaten our suppers, were sitting by our fires,
smoking and talking, with the sky crimson in the west and the desert
getting mysterious with purple shadows, when as another construction train
of box cars and platform cars clanked by I chanced to note a figure spring
out asprawl, alight with a whiffle of sand, and staggering up hasten for
us.

First it accosted the hulk Daniel, who was temporarily out on herd,
keeping the animals from the tracks. I saw him lean from his saddle; then
he rode spurring in, bawling like a calf:

"Paw! Paw! Hey, yu-all! Thar's a woman yonder in britches an' she 'laows
to come on. She's lookin' for Mister Jenks."

Save for his excited stuttering silence reigned, a minute. Then in a storm
of rude raillery--"That's a hoss on you, George!" "Didn't know you owned
one o' them critters, George," "Does she wear the britches, George?" and
so forth--my friend Jenks arose, peering, his whiskered mouth so agape
that he almost dropped his pipe. And we all peered, with the women of the
caravan smitten mute but intensely curious, while the solitary figure,
braving our stares, came on to the fires.

"Gawd almighty!" Mr. Jenks delivered.

Likewise straightening I mentally repeated the ejaculation, for now I knew
her as well as he. Yes, by the muttered babble others in our party knew
her. It was My Lady--formerly My Lady--clad in embroidered short Spanish
jacket, tightish velvet pantaloons, booted to the knees, pulled down upon
her yellow hair a black soft hat, and hanging from the just-revealed belt
around her slender waist, a revolver trifle.

She paused, small and alone, viewing us, her eyes very blue, her face very
white.

"Is Mr. Jenks there?" she hailed clearly.

"Damn' if I ain't," he mumbled. He glowered at me. "Yes, ma'am, right
hyar. You want to speak with me?"

"By gosh, it's Montoyo's woman, ain't it?" were the comments.