“Well, I suppose you could run a cow outfit all by yourself, with the knowledge you've got from Keith,” he greeted, and two people became even more embarrassed than before. If Dick noticed anything, he must have been a wise young man, for he gave no sign. But Beatrice had not queened it in her set, three seasons, for nothing, even if she was capable of being confused by a sweet, new language in a man's eyes. She answered Dick quietly. “I've been so busy watching it all that I haven't had time to ask many questions, as Mr. Cameron can testify. It's like a game, and it's very fascinating--and dusty. I wonder if I might ride in among them, Dick?” “Better not, sis. It isn't as much fun as it looks, and you can see more out here. There comes milord; he must have changed his mind about the letter.” Beatrice did not look around. To see her, you would swear she had set herself the task of making an accurate count of noses in that seething mass of raw beef below her. After a minute she ventured to glance furtively at Keith, and, finding his eyes turned her way, blushed again and called herself an idiot. After that, she straightened in the saddle, and became the self-poised Miss Lansell, of New York. Keith rode away to the far side of the herd, out of temptation; queer a man never runs from a woman until it is too late to be a particle of use. Keith simply changed his point of view, and watched his Heart's Desire from afar. CHAPTER 5. The Search for Dorman. “Oh, I say,” began Sir Redmond, an hour after, when he happened to stand close to Beatrice for a few minutes, “where is Dorman? I fancied you brought him along.” “We didn't,” Beatrice told him. “He only rode as far as the gate, where Dick left him, and started him back to the house.” “Mary told me he came along. She and your mother were congratulating each other upon a quiet half-day, with you and Dorman off the place together. I'll wager their felicitations fell rather flat.” Beatrice laughed. “Very likely. I know they were mourning because their lace-making had been neglected lately. What with that trip to Lost Canyon to-morrow, and to the mountains Friday, I'm afraid the lace will continue to suffer. What do you think of a round-up, Sir Redmond?” “It's deuced nasty,” said he. “Such a lot of dust and noise. I fancy the workmen don't find it pleasant.” “Yes, they do; they like it,” she declared. “Dick says a cowboy is never satisfied off the range. And you mustn't call them workmen, Sir Redmond. They'd resent it, if they knew. They're cowboys, and proud of it. They seem rather a pleasant lot of fellows, on the whole. I have been talking to one or two.” “Well, we're all through here,” Dick announced, riding up. “I'm going to ride around by Keith's place, to see a horse I'm thinking of buying. Want to go along, Trix? Or are you tired?”