When Hugh and Doctor Redfield had taken their leave of Cornwall, the latter returned to his Plutarch. Hugh and Jack, as they rode on, mutually agreed that Cornwall entertained a most sensible view of the existing conditions, and both deplored the Anglomania of the age. At midday Hugh drew rein and dismounted in front of a dugout home. It was a sample of hundreds in the Southwest, and from the outside had more the appearance of a cyclone cellar than a dwelling. The owner came out and greeted them warmly, and, with usual western hospitality, insisted that they feed their jaded animals, and share with his family their noonday meal. “I assure you,” said Mr. Redner, “that such as we have you are most welcome to.” The Redner family consisted of Mr. Redner, his wife, a lovely daughter, Miss Lena, and a son whom they called Dick. Their dugout home was furnished with fragments of eastern elegance. A Chickering upright stood in one corner, strangely contrasting with the rude sideboard-table, which was supported by pins fastened in the wall. The luncheon consisted of corn bread, potatoes, bacon, and coffee. No apology was offered for the meagre fare. It was the best they had. The Redner family was a representative one. They had emigrated from the East to better their condition, if possible, in the great Southwest. The devastation of the hot winds had reduced them to direst want. Even the absolute necessities became luxuries. This frugality and scant provender was but a link in the great chain of experiences on the frontier. In all their suffering, these people were still happy in anticipation that after awhile the rain belt would creep westward, and that their homestead of 160 acres would yet bless them in their old age. After luncheon, Hugh and Doctor Redfield bade adieu to the Redner family, and turned their ponies homeward by a circuitous route. “We will return by a different route,” said Hugh, “for it just occurs to me that I want you to see the flowing wells in the Crooked Valley north of Meade.” “This is a new life to me,” said Jack,—“the frontier. It has a new meaning to me.” “Yes,” replied Hugh, “and, strange as it may seem, I love the frontier. It is true the hot winds have swept away my fortune, and I am penniless. Still, on the frontier one is surrounded by friends different from those one makes in cities,—the great congested centres of our population.” “I deeply regret,” replied Jack, “your having come into this inhospitable place. However, old fellow, your coming may be the means of my succeeding in restoring relations with Ethel.” “It must be the means,” said Hugh, decidedly. “Really, Jack, I hardly believe you understand the depth and nobleness of Ethel’s character.”