So invited, Sandy Griswold, seasoned colonel of cavalrymen, made himself at home, a tin of coffee in his hand. His eye took in the arrangement of the scant equipment of these cattle drovers. He noted the giant carts, their covers drawn tight. He noted also when the flaps of the nearest cart cover parted, and some one—at first he thought it was a young man—began to climb down from the lofty seat via the cart tongue. “Hello, what’s that?” said Sandy Griswold suddenly. “That’s no man—that’s a woman!” “Shore she is,” said Jim Nabours. “She owns the cows. She’s going through to Aberlene.” By now Taisie Lockart, in blue shirt and checkered trousers, boots and wide hat—her only apparel—was approaching the men. The officer arose, hat in hand. Jim Nabours made such clumsy introduction as he could. The soldier’s eyes were running over the trim, straight, round figure of this astonishing apparition. He saw the great club of bound bright hair, the easy lines of young womanhood; the poise and grace of as fine a specimen of young womanhood, indeed, as any land might well produce. He knew at the first glance that here was a young lady. She was with this party but not of it. Her first words affirmed his first conviction. “But why are you here?” he repeated in wonderment. “You don’t belong here. This is a man’s job. Didn’t you know the risk you’d run?” “None of us knew very much about it, sir,” rejoined Taisie Lockhart. “We are beginning now to see.” She spread out her hands, indicating the absence of her herd. “Sit down here by me, please, young lady.” Hat in hand, he made a place for her. “Which one of these men did you say was your husband?” The bright blood flooded Taisie’s cheeks. Her trail boss answered for her. “She won’t be married none till we get to Aberlene,” said Jim explicitly. “But that ain’t nobody’s fault but her own.” Sandy Griswold laughed uproariously. “By jove!” said he. “It’s an awful thing to be old and lame and married—married before you were a day old, my dear. If I wasn’t, I swear I’d marry you now, before you’re a day older! What’s the matter with all these young fellers?” His keen blue eye under its shaggy brows swept the company of the Del Sol men, but found no mate for her. His eye lingered for just a time on a tall young man who stood quite apart. “Come now,” he resumed, turning to the girl from whose fresh beauty—which was beauty even in daylight, and even in the morning—his eyes did not willingly wander long, “tell me all about things. You don’t belong in here, but of course I have got to help you out. I wouldn’t fret too much. If I had not come along old Yellow Hand here would have put you on your uppers. As it is, we’ll put him on his. We’ll all go back down the trail together with my bullies yonder. We’ll hold a big rodeo down there and see what the buffalo and the Comanches have left for you. Very foolish of you, my dear; very foolish, indeed. But we’ll see what can be done.”