Riding in from his long journey one night, Lorry passed close to the new cabin. It loomed strangely raw and white in the moonlight. He had forgotten that there was to be a camp near his. The surprise rather irritated him. Heretofore he had considered the Blue Mesa was his by a kind of natural right. He wondered how he would like the city folks. They had evidently made themselves at home. Their horses were in his corral. As he unsaddled Gray Leg, a light flared up in the strange camp. The door opened, and a man came toward him. "Good-evening," said the writer. "I hope my horses are not in your way." "Sure not," said Lorry as he loosened a pack-rope. He took off the packs and lugged them to the veranda. The tired horses rolled, shook themselves, and meandered toward the spring. "I'm Bronson. My daughter is with me. We are up here for the summer." "My name is Adams," said Lorry, shaking hands. "The ranger up here. Yes. Well, I'm glad to meet you, Adams. My daughter and I get along wonderfully, but it will be rather nice to have a neighbor. I heard you ride by, and wanted to explain about my horses." "That's all right, Mr. Bronson. Just help yourself." "Thank you. Dorothy--my daughter--has been under the weather for a few days. She'll be up to-morrow, I think. She has been worrying about our using your corral. I told her you would not mind." "Sure not. She's sick, did you say?" "Well, over-tired. She is not very strong." "Lungs?" queried Lorry, and immediately he could have kicked himself for saying it. "I'm afraid so, Adams. I thought this high country might do her good." "It's right high for some. Folks got to take it easy at first; 'specially wimmin-folk. I'm right sorry your girl ain't well." "Thank you. I shouldn't have mentioned it. She is really curious to know how you live, what you do, and, in fact, what a real live ranger looks like. Mr. Shoop told her something about you while we were in Jason. They became great friends while the camp was building. She says she knows all about you, and tries to tease me by keeping it to herself." "Bud--my boss--is some josher," was all that Lorry could think of to say at the time. Bronson went back to his cabin. Lorry, entering his camp, lighted the lamp and built a fire. The camp looked cozy and cheerful after a week on the trail. When he had eaten he sat down to write to his mother. He would tell her all about the new cabin and the city folks. But before he had written more than to express himself "that it was too darned bad a girl had to stay up in the woods without no other wimmin-folks around," he became drowsy. The letter remained unfinished. He would finish it to-morrow. He would smoke awhile and then go to bed.