Goodwin, or James
Hunt.

* * * * *

It was soon after this that the Happy Hexagons and Mr. Tim, returning on
horseback from a long day on the range, met with a delay that would
prevent their reaching the ranch house until some time after dark.

"Oh, goody! I don't care a bit," chuckled Genevieve, when she realized
the facts of the case. "There is a perfectly glorious moon, and now you
can see the prairie by moonlight. And you never really have seen the
prairie until you do see it by moonlight, you know!"

"But we have seen it by moonlight--right from your steps," cried Tilly.

"Oh, but not the same as it will be out here--away from the ranch
house," cried Genevieve. "You just wait! You'll see."

And they did wait. And they did see.

It did seem, indeed, that they never before had really seen the prairie;
they all agreed to that, as they gazed in awed delight at the vast,
silvery wonder all about them, some time later.

"Why, it looks more than ever like the ocean," cried Bertha.

"That grass over there actually ripples like water in the moonlight,"
declared Elsie.

"I didn't suppose anything could be so beautiful," breathed Cordelia.
"But, Genevieve, won't Mrs. Kennedy be dreadfully worried, at our being
so late?"

Genevieve gave a sigh.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," she admitted. "Still, she has Father to comfort
her, and he'll remind her that Mr. Tim is with us, and that delays are
always happening on a day's run like ours."

"I wish she could see this beautiful sight herself," cried Alma. "She
wouldn't blame us, then, for going wild over it and not minding if we
are a little hungry."

Tilly, for once, was silent.

"Well?" questioned Genevieve, after a time, riding up to her side.

"I don't know any one--only Quentina--who could do justice to it,"
breathed Tilly. And, to Genevieve's amazement, the moonlight showed a
tear on Tilly's cheek.

There was a long minute of silence. The moon was very bright, yet the
many swift-flying clouds brought moments of soft darkness, and cast
weird shadows across the far-reaching prairie.

"I think I smell a storm coming--sometime," sniffed Mr. Tim, his face to
the wind.

"Wouldn't it be lovely to have it come while we were out here," gurgled
Tilly.

"Hardly!" rejoined Mr. Tim with emphasis. "I reckon you needn't worry
about that storm for some hours yet. I'll have you all safely corralled
long before it breaks--never fear."

"I wasn