Harry felt her blood quicken with interest as the covey of bark-gray birds slid across a sun patch beyond the willows and vanished again amongst the quaking asps higher up. So absorbed did she become in this game of hide and seek that she never once thought of the meadow pasture and it was only as she made a detour to avoid a great patch of fire-weed that she came alongside the fence. At the same moment, she saw a man come riding slowly across the shoulder of the hill. He appeared to be watching for something, for he rode slowly and looked about. Harry stood perfectly still, hoping he would not catch sight of her. But her light dress at once caught the rider's eyes and before she could move he was riding toward her. He was a tall, big-shouldered young fellow, dressed in cowboy fashion. "Seen any strays round here, ma'am?" he asked, lifting his hat. "I'm looking for one." "Strays? Horses, you mean?" Harry stammered. The sound of the stranger's voice had recalled something to the girl's mind. She had seen this man before. His voice, his smooth, freckled face, his blue eyes--she knew them. She blushed with confusion, for the young man was looking at her intently. "I don't believe there've been any strays here," she said. "My brother might know." "Your brother down at the tent yonder?" "No, not now. He's gone off with--with another man." "You ain't got no horses of your own here that mine could ha' got in with?" "No--yes--I mean we're boarding some horses, but they're colts and inside the pasture, and I'm sure there are no strays among them." The stranger had dismounted and, leading his horse, was walking beside her. "Excuse me, ma'am. Ain't I seen you before?" he asked. "That's what I was wondering," Harry laughed. "But I can't remember your name. Mine is Harriet Holliday." "Sure thing! It was comin' up in the train, wasn't it? Mine's Chris Garnett." At once Harry remembered. After telling each other that they were glad to meet again, they walked on toward the tent. "Whose horses are those?" Garnett asked, pointing at the big team in the corral. "Oh, that's the work team!" "I thought you said your brother was off." "Yes, he's riding one of the horses we're boarding." "A colt?" "No, you see there were two old--I mean good, broken horses in the bunch. Rob and the fellow who owns the horses are riding them." Harry's explanation was somewhat jerky. The subject of Jones and his horses still rankled in her, and she could not speak of them naturally. Garnett looked at her gravely. She felt the color rush into her face and her eyes fell. "You must stay and have some lunch," she said at last, trying to turn the conversation away from the painful subject. "I haven't a hot dinner, because the boys aren't going to be home, but I'd like to have you stay."