had a surprising amount of endurance, both nervous and muscular, but, having drawn heavily against her reserve force, she paid the penalty.  During the early hours of the night she slept hardly at all, and as soon as her bodily discomfort began to decrease her mind became unruly.  Twice she rose and limped to the water-hole for a drink, and it was not until nearly dawn that she dropped off into complete unconsciousness.  She was awakened by a sunbeam which pierced her leafy shelter and with hot touch explored her upturned face.

It was still early; the sun had just cleared the valley’s rim and the ground was damp with dew.  Somewhere near by an unfamiliar bird was sweetly trilling.  Alaire listened dreamily until the bird-carol changed to the air of a familiar cowboy song, then she sat up, queerly startled.

David Law was watering his horse, grooming the animal meanwhile with a burlap doth.  Such attention was unusual in a stock country where horses run wild, but this horse, Mrs. Austin saw, justified unusual care.  It was a beautiful blood-bay mare, and as the woman looked it lifted its head, then with wet, trembling muzzle caressed its owner’s cheek.  Undoubtedly this attention was meant for a kiss, and was as daintily conferred as any woman’s favor.  It brought a reward in a lump of sugar.  There followed an exhibition of equine delight; the mare’s lips twitched, her nose wrinkled ludicrously, she stretched her neck and tossed her head as the sweetness tickled her palate.  Even the nervous switching of her tail was eloquent of pleasure.  Meanwhile the owner showed his white teeth in a smile.

“Good morning,” said Mrs. Austin.

Law lifted his hat in a graceful salute as he approached around the edge of the pool, his spurs jingling musically.  The mare followed.

“You have a fine horse, there.”

“Yes’m.  Her and me get along all right.  I hope we didn’t wake you, ma’am.”

“No.  I was too tired to sleep well.”

“Of course.  I heard you stirring about during the night.”  Law paused, and the mare, with sharp ears cocked forward, looked over his shoulder inquisitively.  “Tell the lady good morning, Bessie Belle,” he directed.  The animal flung its head high, then stepped forward and, stretching its neck, sniffed doubtfully at the visitor.

“What a graceful bow!” Mrs. Austin laughed.  “You taught her that, I presume.”

“Yes’m!  She’d never been to school when I got her; she was plumb ignorant.  But she’s got all the airs of a fine lady now.  Sometimes I go without sugar, but Bessie Belle never does.”

“And you with a sweet tooth!”

The Ranger smiled pleasantly.  “She’s as easy as a rockin’-chair.  We’re kind of sweethearts.  Ain’t we, kid?” Again Bessie Belle tossed her head high.  “That’s ‘yes,’ with the reverse English,” the speaker explained.  “Now you just rest yourself, ma’am, and order your breakfast.  What ’ll it be—­quail, dove, or cottontail?”