him. His broad smile was exasperating in the last degree, and it was not
she, but the other young woman in the coach, whom he addressed.

"I got some side saddles, Miss Burt," he announced, "and a few extra
mustangs, whenever anybody gets tired of traveling behind curtains."
Curiously enough, both girls wore riding habits. "Oh, by the way," he
inquired suddenly, "how's Miss Jack'leen this morning? Is she well
and--docile?"

Jacqueline's chin dropped in astonishment. She seized the old canvas
window flap and jerked it down. But at once she raised it again, and
thoughtfully contemplated the trooper.

"I wonder," she mused aloud, in that quaint accenting of the English
which cannot be described, "when is it that you are going to grow up,
_ever_?"

"I did start to," Driscoll informed her soberly, "but it got tiresome as
all creation, and I reckon I've backslided just since"--a world of
earnestness came into his lowered voice--"well, just since we had that
talk with poor Maximilian."

The old canvas curtain fell for good then, and very abruptly.

A moment later, however, she was avenging her flushed cheeks on Mr.
Daniel Boone, who rode at the other side, also sunburned, also effulgent
with happiness.

"If it isn't the _animal disputans_!" she exclaimed. "Look Berthe,
and rejoice; our sighing Monsieur le Troubadour!"

Driscoll hovered near a moment, then reluctantly rode ahead of his
battered dusty warriors. So he and the wilful maid from France began a
second journey together, yet far, far apart. But only after many
torturing hours did his first joy consent to perceive the distance
between them.

Now and then, though rarely, and never when he hoped for such a thing,
she would ride with him. And then he usually stirred up hostilities
before he knew it, and notwithstanding all that was tender and humble
which he meant to tell her. There was, however, cause enough for
savagery. She made him the least of the troop, though he arranged each
detail of speed and comfort, laid out tempting noon-day spreads,
improvised cheer in the cheerless hostelries, and all with a forethought
showing pathetically how his every thought was of her. But if she
divined the inwardness of this, which of course she did, outwardly she
contrived to be oblivious. She thanked him sincerely and simply, the
while that he craved repayment, as the heart repays. He yearned for only
a chance to speak his mind, and to force hers. But now craftily she
wo