By his talk they hadn't always been
so poor and she belonged to an old family, as 'families go in America.'
That was the way he put it, and it was his ambition to see his mother
able to take 'the place where she belonged.' That's how he began; and
now, look at this!"

All the young people had now gathered around the pond, or lake, that had
been made in a natural basin on the mountain side, for thinking that
their host and hostess would better like to enter their new home with no
strangers about them, Dorothy had suggested:

"Let's follow the boys! Jim's arm ought to be looked after, first thing,
and I'll remind him of it. He'd no business to come on horseback all
that long way, but he never would take care of himself."

"Has Leslie ever been here before?" asked Molly Breckenridge.

"No. It is as much a surprise to him as to his mother. But he's mighty
proud of his father," answered Dorothy. "Look, here he comes now."

He came running across the sward and down the rocky path to the edge of
the lake and clapped a hand on the shoulders of Herbert and Montmorency.
He did not mean to be less cordial to Jim Barlow but he was. For two
reasons: one that Dorothy had extolled her humble friend till he seemed
a paragon of all the virtues; and secondly what he had learned of Jim's
eagerness for knowledge had made him ashamed of his own indifference to
it. Even that day, his father had commended the poorer boy for his keen
observation of everything and read him a portion of a letter received
from Dr. Sterling, the clergyman with whom James lived and studied.

The Doctor had written that the lad was already well versed in natural
history and that his interest in geology was as great as the writer's
own. He felt that this invitation to his beloved protege was a wonderful
thing for the student, and that Mr. Ford might feel he was having a hand
in the formation of a great scientist.

There had been more of the same sort of praise and Leslie had looked
with simple amazement at the tall, awkward youth, who had arrived in
Denver with the rest of his young guests.

"That fellow smart? Clever? Brainy? Well, he doesn't look it. If ever I
saw a regular clodhopper, he's the chap. But that Herbert Montaigne,
now, is rippin'! He has the right 'air,' and so has the shorty, the fat
Monty, only his figure is against him," he had remarked to Mateo, who
had instantly agreed with him. Indeed, the Mexican _never_ disagreed
with his "gracious ex