this young man smiling up at her.

"Pat never ran like that before," she explained, a bit nervously. "I was
beginning to wonder what would happen at the railroad crossing. You
checked him just in time. I--I really owe--"

"Sure he won't charge again?" interrupted the young man, evidently
wishing to avoid any expression of gratitude on her part.

"I--I am quite certain," she replied, and then, after thanking him,
slowly gathered up the reins. But she did not ride on, for the reason
that the other, now absorbed in a cool survey of Pat's outlines,
retained his hold on the bridle. Yet neither the survey nor the grip on
the bridle displeased her.

"A splendid horse," he declared, after a moment. "A beautiful animal!"
Then, evidently suddenly mindful that he was detaining her, he stepped
back.

Helen again prepared to ride on.

"Pat is a beautiful horse," she agreed, still a little nervous. "And
like all beauty," she added, "he develops strange moods at times." Then,
her sense of deep gratitude moving her, she asked, "Were you going
toward town?"

For reply he swung into the saddle. He wheeled close, and they set out.
He appeared a little ill at ease, and Helen took the initiative.

"From the East, I take it?" she inquired. "There are not a few
Easterners down here. Some have taken up permanent residence."

"Yes," he replied, "I'm from the East--New York."

She liked his voice.

"We are here for the winter--mother and myself. Mother isn't strong, and
your delightful climate ought to improve her. I myself came along"--he
turned twinkling eyes toward her--"as guide and comforter and--I
fear--all-round nuisance." He was silent. "I like this country," he
added, after a moment.

Helen liked him for liking her country, for she had true Western pride
for her birthplace. So she said the natural thing, though without
display of pride. "Everybody likes it down here."

He looked at her hesitatingly. "You're not from the outside, then?"

"No," she rejoined. "I am a native."

He showed restless curiosity now. "Tell me," he began, engagingly,
"about this country. What, for instance, must one do, must one be,
to--to be--well, to be accepted as a native!" He said this much as one
feeling his way among a people new to him, as if, conscious of the
informal nature of their meeting, he would ease that informality, yet
did not know precisely how.

Yet Helen found herself quite comfortable in his society now, and,
permitting h