rse and now I have. Only, if we were up there
on the mesa, he'd show you!"

"Does this trail never end, nor turn?"

The laughter on the girl's face changed to anxiety.

"Not ill, exactly; only I'm not experienced at this business and it
shakes me."

"You ride too hard and stiff. That's why. Let yourself go--just be part
of your horse. He's a beauty, isn't he? Even the boys couldn't stand
that gait."

"And you. Who taught you to ride an ostrich? Where did you get it?
It's almost the first one I ever saw and quite the first that Prince
did. I was nearly as scared as he, meeting such a creature on a lonely
mountain trail."

"I never learned--it just happened. Zulu is 'patriarch' of the flock.
The only imported bird left alive. We just grew up together, he and I.
Didn't we, King?"

Speech was now easier, for the speed of both animals had slackened, that
of Prince to a comfortable trot. While the sidewise lurching motion
of the ostrich was enjoyable enough to Jessica, it turned Mr. Hale's
head dizzy, watching. Or it may have been the blinding sunshine, beating
against the canyon wall and deflected upon the riders in waves of heat.

"Whew! This is scorching. How far, yet?"

Jessica saw that what she minded not at all was turning the stranger
sick, and answered swiftly:

"You wouldn't be able to get further than 'five times' before we
reach the turn. There'll be a glorious breeze then. There always is."

"What do you mean by 'five times'?"

"Why, just the multiplication table. I always say it when I've
something I want to get over quick. You begin at one-times-one, and see
if it isn't so."

"What shall we find at the top; your home?"

"Oh, no, indeed. That is quite the other way. Down in the valley.
Sobrante ranch. That's ours. Were you going there?"

"I was going--anywhere. I had lost my way. 'Missed the trail,' as you
say in this country."

"I thought, maybe, you were just a 'tourist.'"

Mr. Hale laughed, and the laugh helped him to forget his present
discomfort.

"Perhaps I am, even if you do speak so disdainfully. Are all
'tourists' objectionable?"

Jessica's brown cheek flushed. She felt she had said something
rude--she, whose ambition it was to be always and everywhere "Our
Lady Jess," that the dear "boys" called her. But she remembered how
annoyed her mother was by the visits of strangers who seemed to regard
Sobrante and its belongings as a "show" arranged for their special
benefit.

"We--w