of
crimson swept up his face from his bristly, tanned chin to his white
forehead. He averted his gaze from hers.

"You're _good_!" he choked out. "I don't deserve--But I can't go--when
you tell me to stay!"

"Of course you can't," she lightly rejoined. "Look! There's the train
coming. Push on the lines!"

CHAPTER XII

THE MEETING

A word started the horses into a lope. The buckboard was whirled along
over the last two miles to Stockchute in a wild race against the
train. The steam horse won. It had sidetracked the private car
attached to the rear of the last pullman and was puffing away
westward, when Ashton guided his running team in among the crude
shacks of the town. He swung around at a more moderate pace towards
the big chute for cattle-loading, and fetched up a few yards out from
the rear step of the private car.

An assiduous porter had already swung down with a box step. A big,
square-faced, square-framed man of twenty-eight or thirty stepped out
into the car vestibule. He sprang to the ground as Miss Knowles
stepped from the buckboard. She had lowered her veil, but it failed to
mask the extreme brilliancy of her eyes and her quick changes of
color. Her face, flushed from the excitement of the race into town,
went white when she first saw the man in the vestibule; flushed again
when he sprang down; again paled; and, last of all, glowed radiantly
as she advanced to meet him.

He hastened to her, baring his big head of its Panama, and staring at
her fashionable hat and dress in frank surprise.

"Mr. Blake!" she murmured.

At the sound of her voice he started and fixed his light blue eyes on
her veiled face with a keen glance. She turned pale and as quickly
blushed, as if embarrassed by his scrutiny.

"Excuse me!" he apologized. "You are Miss Knowles?"

"Yes," she murmured.

"Knowles?" he repeated, half to himself. "Strange! Haven't I met you
before?"

"In Denver?" she suggested. "I spend my winters in Denver. But there
was one in Europe."

"No, it wouldn't be either. You must excuse me, Miss Knowles. There
was something about your voice and face--rather threw me off my
balance. If you'll kindly overlook the bungling start-off! I'm greatly
pleased to meet you. My wife will be, too. May I ask you to step
aboard the car?--No, here she is now."

A graceful, rather small lady, dressed with elegant simplicity, had
come out into the car vestibule.

"Jenny, here's Miss Knowles now," said B