The sun went away; the horse ate his supper; and the girl slept.  By and by the horse drowsed off too, and the bleating sheep in the distance, the lowing of the cattle, the sound of night-birds, came now and again from the distance; but still the girl slept on.  The moon rose full and round, shining with flickering light through the cottonwoods; and the girl stirred in a dream and thought some one was pursuing her, but slept on again.  Then out through the night rang a vivid human voice, “Hello!  Hello!” The horse roused from his sleep, and stamped his feet nervously, twitching at his bridle; but the relaxed hand that lay across the leather strap did not quicken, and the girl slept on.  The horse listened, and thought he heard a sound good to his ear.  He neighed, and neighed again; but the girl slept on.

The first ray of the rising sun at last shot through the gray of dawning, and touched the girl full in the face as it slid under the branches of her sheltering tree.  The light brought her acutely to her senses.  Before she opened her eyes she seemed to be keenly and painfully aware of much that had gone on during her sleep.  With another flash her eyes flew open.  Not because she willed it, but rather as if the springs that held the lids shut had unexpectedly been touched and they sprang back because they had to.

She shrank, as her eyes opened, from a new day, and the memory of the old one.  Then before her she saw something which kept her motionless, and almost froze the blood in her veins.  She could not stir nor breathe, and for a moment even thought was paralyzed.  There before her but a few feet away stood a man!  Beyond him, a few feet from her own horse, stood his horse.  She could not see it without turning her head, and that she dared not do; but she knew it was there, felt it even before she noticed the double stamping and breathing of the animals.  Her keen senses seemed to make the whole surrounding landscape visible to her without the moving of a muscle.  She knew to a nicety exactly how her weapons lay, and what movement would bring her hand to the trigger of her pistol; yet she stirred not.

Gradually she grew calm enough to study the man before her.  He stood almost with his back turned toward her, his face just half turned so that one cheek and a part of his brow were visible.  He was broad-shouldered and well built.  There was strength in every line of his body.  She felt how powerless she would be in his grasp.  Her only hope would be in taking him unaware.  Yet she moved not one atom.

He wore a brown flannel shirt, open at the throat, brown leather belt and boots; in short, his whole costume was in harmonious shades of brown, and looked new as if it had been worn but a few days.  His soft felt sombrero was rolled back from his face, and the young red sun tinged the short brown curls to a ruddy gold.  He was looking toward the rising sun.  The gleam of it shot across his brace of pistols in his belt, and flashed twin rays into her eyes.  Then all at once the man turned and looked at her.