“I have found it all so strange, so unique, Mr. Wynkoop,” she explained.  “The country is like a new world to me, and the people do not seem at all like those of the East.  They lead such a wild, untrammelled life.  Everything about seems to exhale the spirit of romance; don’t you find it so?”

He smiled at her enthusiasm, his glance of undisguised admiration on her face.  “I certainly recall some such earlier conception,” he admitted.  “Those just arriving from the environment of an older civilization perceive merely the picturesque elements; but my later experiences have been decidedly prosaic.”

“Why, Mr. Wynkoop! how could they be?  Your work is heroic.  I cannot conceive how any minister of the Cross, having within him any of the old apostolic fervor, can consent to spend his days amid the dreary commonplaces of those old, dead Eastern churches.  You, nobly battling on the frontier, are the true modern Crusaders, the Knights of the Grail.  Here you are ever in the very forefront of the battle against sin, associated with the Argonauts, impressing your faith upon the bold, virile spirits of the age.  It is perfectly grand!  Why the very men I meet seem to yield me a broader conception of life and duty; they are so brave, so modest, so active.  Is—­is Mr. Moffat a member of your church?”

The minister cleared his throat, his cheeks reddening.  “Mr. Moffat?  Ah, no; not exactly.  Do you mean the mine-owner, Jack Moffat?”

“Yes, I think so; he told me he owned a mine—­the Golden Rule the name was; the very choice in words would seem, to indicate his religious nature.  He ’s such a pleasant, intelligent man.  There is a look in his eyes as though he sorrowed over something.  I was in hopes you knew what it was, and I am very sure he would welcome your ministrations.  You have the only church in Glencaid, I understand, and I wonder greatly he has never joined you.  But perhaps he may be prejudiced against your denomination.  There is so much narrowness in religion.  Now, I am an Episcopalian myself, but I do not mean to permit that to interfere in any way with my church work out here.  I wonder if Mr. Moffat can be an Episcopalian.  If he is, I am just going to show him that it is clearly his duty to assist in any Christian service.  Is n’t that the true, liberal, Western spirit, Mr. Wynkoop?”

“It most assuredly should be,” said the young pastor.

“I left every prejudice east of the Missouri,” she declared, laughingly, “every one, social and religious.  I ’m going to be a true Westerner, from the top of my head to the toe of my shoe.  Is Mr. McNeil in your church?”

The minister hesitated.  “I really do not recall the name,” he confessed at last, reluctantly.  “I scarcely think I can have ever met the gentleman.”

“Oh, you ought to; he is so intensely original, and his face is full of character.  He reminds me of some old paladin of the Middle Ages.  You would be interested in him at once.  He is the foreman of the ‘Bar V’ ranch, somewhere near here.”