he very tribesmen who dwelt in that pueblo ages ago,
whose ruins he and Ruth have gone to see. Who knows? And I'm never
able to rid myself of the feeling that such forces exist in him and
his kind."

The engineer thrust his shovel into the earth and seated himself
beside the girl.

"Nor I," said he. "And I suppose that feeling will remain between
persons of different races as long as the races themselves last. Those
who ignore or deny it are simply blind. Why, look, there's antipathy
between even white men of different nationalities! So what else is to
be expected when the question is one of race and colour? Nor will one
or two generations change what is infused in blood and sinew."

"Now, that's what uncle says," Imogene Martin declared, "and asserts
that's the reason why Mexicans born and raised here are in sympathy
with those across the border in any trouble Mexico has with our
country." Her face all at once became amused. "He says craniums were
shaped long before governments."

Bryant laughed on hearing that concise summing up of the case. And
then they continued to talk of this and other subjects, while Dave
Morris drew near and silently drank in the conversation, most of which
passed above his head. As for the engineer, he found in his companion
a peculiar charm that he never would have suspected from their first
meeting at the ford; a pleasure begotten of a quick intelligence and a
keen, trained mind.

"I've delayed you in your work," she exclaimed, at length.

"Except to throw out a few shovelfuls of dirt, and that will take but
a moment. I was done. I didn't sit down until it was practically put
in shape. I hope we shall have another talk soon; this one has been a
great treat for me. Let me help you up."

When he had cleaned the last clods from the ditch, he set off with
tripod and shovel on shoulder to walk with her to the cabins, while
Dave followed with Dick. At the houses Bryant cast an appraising look
at the scanty heap of chopped wood and wound up his visit by seizing
the axe and attacking the store of dry poles hauled from the canon by
the man who had built the cabins.

"There, that will keep you going for awhile," he stated, when he had
produced a large pile of sticks. "I don't believe you're strong enough
to handle an axe, Miss Martin; and it would grieve me deeply to learn
you had removed a toe in the attempt. Really, this homesteading game
isn't for women and girls."

"Oh, we've made out