"They are well, and waiting to give you and your brother a royal
welcome."

"Thank you," Morton Rutherford replied, "I am quite anxious to meet
them, Ned, of course, can speak for himself."

"That he can, and generally does when the right time comes," responded
that individual, "you will find I am a universal favorite here, in the
camp of the Philistines."

In a little while they were on their way to camp, Houston and Morton
Rutherford occupying the back seat of the light, canopy-top wagon,
while Van Dorn and Ned took the forward seat with the driver, the
horses and baggage following with one of the mining teams.

Morton Rutherford gave his friend a glowing account of his journey
through the west, dwelling at considerable length on his enjoyment of
the scenic routes. As they wound upward through the canyon, he grew
ecstatic over the wild beauty and rugged grandeur extending in every
direction, and when they finally drew rein before the long, low
boarding house, nestling at the foot of the mountain, with its rustic,
vine-covered porch, and surrounded on all sides by the wild scenery of
that region, his admiration knew no bounds.

"What a delightful retreat!" he exclaimed, "what a study for an
artist!"

Within the porch, among the vines, the ladies awaited their coming,
and Lyle, looking forth from her shady retreat, saw the face whose
image had been imprinted on heart and brain, and at a glance she read
all she had expected to find, and more. There were the fine features,
expressing such depth and power, and yet such delicacy of thought and
feeling, the intellectual brow, the dark, expressive eyes, all as she
had seen them in the picture; but what picture could convey the living
beauty of the whole? It was the face of one whom women would worship,
and men would follow even to death.

The gentlemen approached the house, Houston and his friend leading the
way. Miss Gladden advanced to meet them, and as Houston introduced Mr.
Rutherford, she extended to him a most gracious and graceful welcome,
and also to Ned. Her gown was white, of soft, clinging material,
trimmed with quantities of rich, rare lace, and brightened here and
there with touches of crimson and gold. She wore a few costly jewels,
and the diamond hilt of a tiny dagger glistened and scintillated in
her auburn-tinted hair. She looked very beautiful, and as Mr.
Rutherford paused to respond to her welcome with a few courteous
words, he thought his friend