cut home.

"There's a vaquero in yonder field," said Christie's escort, who was
riding with her a little in advance of the others, "and those fellows
know every trail that a horse can follow. I'll ride on, intercept him,
and try my Spanish on him. If I miss him, as he's galloping on, you
might try your hand on him yourself. He'll understand your eyes, Miss
Carr, in any language."

As he dashed away, to cover his first audacity of compliment, Christie
lifted the eyes thus apostrophized to the opposite field. The vaquero,
who was chasing some cattle, was evidently too preoccupied to heed the
shouts of her companion, and wheeling round suddenly to intercept one
of the deviating fugitives, permitted Christie's escort to dash past him
before that gentleman could rein in his excited steed. This brought the
vaquero directly in her path. Perceiving her, he threw his horse back on
its haunches, to prevent a collision. Christie rode up to him, suddenly
uttered a cry, and halted. For before her, sunburnt in cheek and throat,
darker in the free growth of moustache and curling hair, clad in the
coarse, picturesque finery of his class, undisguised only in his boyish
beauty, sat George Kearney.

The blood, that had forsaken her astonished face, rushed as quickly
back. His eyes, which had suddenly sparkled with an electrical glow,
sank before hers. His hand dropped, and his cheek flushed with a dark
embarrassment.

"You here, Mr. Kearney? How strange!--but how glad I am to meet you
again!"

She tried to smile; her voice trembled, and her little hand shook as she
extended it to him.

He raised his dark eyes quickly, and impulsively urged his horse to her
side. But, as if suddenly awakening to the reality of the situation,
he glanced at her hurriedly, down at his barbaric finery, and threw a
searching look towards her escort.

In an instant Christie saw the infelicity of her position, and its
dangers. The words of Whiskey Dick, "He wouldn't stand that," flashed
across her mind. There was no time to lose. The banker had already
gained control over his horse, and was approaching them, all unconscious
of the fixed stare with which George was regarding him. Christie hastily
seized the hand which he had allowed to fall at his side, and said
quickly:--

"Will you ride with me a little way, Mr. Kearney?"

He turned the same searching look upon her. She met it clearly and
steadily; he even thought reproachfully.

"Do!" she said hu