“The ditch is the prettiest I ever saw,” Travis responded, with all the warmth of his unrequited devotion to that faithless piece of engineering. “All new ditches need watching till the banks get settled.” “Well, I should say that _you_ watched! Don't you ever stir off that bank?” “I eat and sleep sometimes.” “You must have a pretty dry camp up above. Wouldn't you like some milk once in a while?” “Thanks; I never happened to fall in with the milkman on my beat.” “We have lots to spare, and buttermilk too, if you're not too proud to come for it. The others used to.” “I guess I don't quite catch on.” “The other watchmen, the boys who were here before you.” “Oh,” said Travis coldly. “Well, any time you choose to come down I'll save some for you,” said the girl, as if that matter were settled. “I'm afraid it is rather off my beat,” Travis hesitated, “but I'm just as much obliged.” Nancy straightened herself haughtily. “Oh, it is nothing to be obliged for, if you don't care to come.” “I did not say I didn't care,” Travis protested; but she was gone. The dust flew, and presently her dark blue skirt and the pony's silver tail flashed past the willows in the low grounds. “I shall never see her again,” he mourned. “So much for those other fellows spoiling her idea of a watchman's duty. Of course she thought I could come if I wanted to. Did she ask them, I wonder?” Nancy was piqued, but not resentful. The more he did not come, as evening after evening smiled upon the level land; the more she thought of Travis, alone in his dusty camp, alone on his blinding beat; the more she dwelt upon the singularity and constancy of his refusal, the more she respected him for it. So one day he did see her again. She was sitting on the bridge planks, leaning forward, her arms in her lap, her hat tipped back, a star of white sunlight touching her forehead. She lifted her head when she heard him coming and put her hand over her eyes, as if she were dizzy with watching the water. “How's the ditch?” she called in a voice of sweetest cheer. She was on her feet now, and he saw how entrancing she was, in a blue muslin frock and a broad white hat with a wreath of pink roses bestrewing the tilted brim. Had they got company at the ranch? was his jealous reflection. “How's the ditch behaving itself these days?” she repeated. “Much as usual, thank you,” Travis beamed from his saddle. “Breaking, as usual?” “Yes; it broke night before last.” “Well, I don't believe it's much of a ditch, anyhow. I wouldn't fret about it if I was you. Don't you think I'm very good-natured, after your snubbing me so? Here I've brought you a basket of apples, seeing you wouldn't spare time from your old ditch to come for them yourself. That in the napkin is a little pat of fresh butter.” She lifted the grape-leaves that covered the basket. “I thought it might taste good in camp.”