"There is no champagne like the air of the high plains before the sun burns the bubble out of it," proclaimed Shockley, who was young and without any of the saddle or collar marks of life; "and to see these beautiful women riding along--say, Harding, if I get off this horse I'll set this prairie on fire," and he burst into an old song:-- "Now, ladies, good-by to each kind, gentle soul, Though me coat it is ragged, me heart it is whole; There's one sitting yonder I think wants a beau, Let her come to the arms of young Billy Barlow." And Shockley urged his horse to the side of Miss Katherine Searles. Observing the manoeuvre, Captain Lewis poked her father in the ribs. "I don't think your daughter wants a beau very much, Major; the youngsters are four files deep around her now." "'Tis youth, Bill Lewis; we've all had it once, and from what I observe, they handle it pretty much as we used to." "The very same. I don't see how men write novels or plays about that old story; all they can do is to invent new fortifications for Mr. Hero to carry before she names the day." Lieutenant Shockley found himself unable to get nearer than two horses to Miss Searles, so he bawled: "And I thought you fellows were hunting wolves. I say, Miss Searles, if you ride one way and the wolf runs the other, it is easy to see which will have the larger field. My money is on you--two to one. Who will take the wolf?" [Illustration: SHOCKLEY.] "Oh, Mr. Shockley, between you and this Western sun, I shall soon need a new powder puff." "Shall I challenge him?" called Bowles to the young woman. "Please not, Mr. Bowles; I do not want to lose him." And every one greeted Shockley derisively. "Guide right!" shouted the last, putting his horse into a lope. Miss Searles playfully slashed about with her riding-whip, saying, "Deploy, gentlemen," and followed him. The others broke apart; they had been beaten by the strategy of the loud mouth. Lieutenant Butler, however, permitted himself the pleasure of accompanying Miss Searles; his determination could not be shaken by these diversions; he pressed resolutely on. "I think Butler has been hit over the heart," said one of the dispersed cavaliers. "You bet, and it is a disabling wound too. I wonder if Miss Searles intends to cure him. When I see her handle her eyes, methinks, compadre, she's a cruel little puss. I wouldn't care to be her mouse." "But, fellows, she's pretty, a d---- pretty girl, hey!" ventured a serious youngster. "You can bet any chap here would hang out the white flag and come a-running, if she hailed him."