uing
his work. Norris dragged up a couple of saddle blankets and spread them on
the ground for her to sit upon.

"You don't have to do a thing but boss this outfit," he told her with his
gay smile. "You're queen of the range to-night, and we're your herders or
your punchers, whichever you want to call us. To-morrow morning two of us
are going to drive these sheep on to the trading post for you, and the
other one is going to see you safe back home. It's all arranged."

They were as good as his word. She could not move from her place to help
herself. It was their pleasure to wait upon her as if she had really been
a queen and they her subjects. Melissy was very tired, but she enjoyed
their deference greatly. She was still young enough to find delight in the
fact that three young and more or less good-looking men were vying with
each other to anticipate her needs.

Like them, she ate and drank ravenously of the sandwiches and the strong
coffee, though before the meal was over she found herself nodding
drowsily. The tactful courtesy of these rough fellows was perfect. They
got the best they had for her of their blankets, dragged a pinon root to
feed the glowing coals, and with cheerful farewells of "_Buenos Noches_"
retired around a bend in the canyon and lit another fire for themselves.

The girl snuggled down into the warmth of the blankets and stretched her
weary limbs in delicious rest. She did not mean to go to sleep for a long
time. She had much to think about. So she looked up the black sheer canyon
walls to the deep blue, starry sky above, and relived her day in memory.

A strange excitement tingled through her, born of shame and shyness and
fear, and of something else she did not understand, something which had
lain banked in her nature like a fire since childhood and now threw forth
its first flame of heat. What did it mean, that passionate fierceness with
which her lips had clung to his? She liked him, of course, but surely
liking would not explain the pulse that her first kiss had sent leaping
through her blood like wine. Did she love him?

Then why did she distrust him? Why was there fear in her sober second
thought of him? Had she done wrong? For the moment all her maiden defenses
had been wiped out and he had ridden roughshod over her reserves. But
somewhere in her a bell of warning was ringing. The poignant sting of sex
appeal had come home to her for the first time. Wherefore in this frank
child of the