fringe of
a dry "run" when she came suddenly upon the figure of a horseman in the
"run," who had been hidden by the alders from the plain beyond and who
seemed to be engaged in examining the hoof marks in the dust of the
old ford. Something about his figure struck her recollection, and as
he looked up quickly she saw it was the owner of the dagger. But
he appeared to be lighter of hair and complexion, and was dressed
differently, and more like a vaquero. Yet there was the same flash of
his teeth as he recognized her, and she knew it was the same man.

Alas for her preparation! Without the knife she could not make that
haughty return of it which she had contemplated. And more than that, she
was conscious she was blushing! Nevertheless she managed to level her
pretty brown eyebrows at him, and said sharply that if he followed her
to her home she would return his property at once.

"But I'm in no hurry for it," he said with a laugh,--the same light
laugh and pleasant voice she remembered,--"and I'd rather not come to
the house just now. The knife is in good hands, I know, and I'll call
for it when I want it! And until then--if it's all the same to you--keep
it to yourself,--keep it dark, as dark as the night I lost it!"

"I don't go about blabbing my affairs," said Lanty indignantly, "and if
it hadn't BEEN dark that night you'd have had your ears boxed--you know
why!"

The stranger laughed again, waved his hand to Lanty, and galloped away.

Lanty was a little disappointed. The daylight had taken away some of
her illusions. He was certainly very good-looking, but not quite as
picturesque, mysterious, and thrilling as in the dark! And it was very
queer--he certainly did look darker that night! Who was he? And why
was he lingering near her? He was different from her neighbors--her
admirers. He might be one of those locaters, from the big towns, who
prospect the lands, with a view of settling government warrants on
them,--they were always so secret until they had found what they wanted.
She did not dare to seek information of her friends, for the same reason
that she had concealed his existence from her mother,--it would provoke
awkward questions; and it was evident that he was trusting to her
secrecy, too. The thought thrilled her with a new pride, and was some
compensation for the loss of her more intangible romance. It would
be mighty fine, when he did call openly for his beautiful knife and
declared himself, to have t