anon
stream ran clear again now that the storm-washed silt had settled. On
the peaks the high winds were cold and cutting, but on the slopes and in
the valleys the earth was moist and warm.

Louise, humming a song, rode slowly along the Moonstone Canon Trail. At
the "double turn" in the canon, where dwelt Echo and her myrmidons,
Louise rode more slowly.

"Dreaming Fance, the cobbler's son, took his tools and laces,
Wrought her shoes of scarlet dye, shoes as pale as snow.
They shall lead her wild-rose feet all the faery paces,
Danced along the road of love, the road such feet should go."

She sang slowly, pausing after each line that the echoes might not blur.

"Danced along ... along ... the road ... of love, the road ... of
love ... of love," sang the echoes.

Louise smiled dreamily. Then the clatter of Boyar's shod hoofs rang and
reechoed, finally to hush in the gravel of the ford beyond.

Why Louise thought of Collie just then, it would be difficult to
imagine. Still, she had, ever since his night's vigil with the blunder
colt, caught herself noting little details associated with him and his
work. He brushed his teeth. Not all of the other men did. He did not
chew tobacco. Despite his lack of early training, he was naturally neat.
He disliked filth instinctively. His bits, spurs, and trappings shone.
He had learned to shoe his string of ponies--an art that is fast
becoming lost among present-day cowmen. With little comment but faithful
zeal he copied Brand Williams. This, of course, flattered the taciturn
cowman, who unobtrusively arranged Collie's work so that it might bring
the younger man before the notice of Walter Stone, and incidentally
Louise. Of course, Louise was not aware of this.

The girl no longer sang as she rode, but dreamed, with unseeing eyes on
the trail ahead--dreamed such dreams as one may put aside easily until,
perchance, the dream converges toward reality which cannot be so lightly
put aside.

Brand Williams had his own ideas of romance; ideas pretty well submerged
in the deeps of hardy experience, but existing, nevertheless, and as
immovable as the bed of the sea. He badgered Collie whenever he chanced
to have seen him with the Rose Girl, and smiling inwardly at the young
man's indignation, he would straightway arrange that Collie should ride
to town, for, say, a few pounds of staples wanted in a hurry, when he
knew that the buckboard would be going to town on the morrow, and