She rode down to Dry Fork, crossed over the sandy channel, and started on at a gallop along the half-beaten road that wound away through the sagebrush towards the distant Split Peak. An hour found her nearing the pinyon clad hills on the far side of Dry Mesa, with still no sign of Ashton. By this time she had worked herself into a fever of excitement and dread. Her relief was correspondingly great when at last she saw him coming towards her around the bend of the nearest hill. But his horse was walking and he was bent over in the saddle as if injured or greatly fatigued. Puzzled and again apprehensive, she urged her pony to sprinting speed. When he heard the approaching hoofs Ashton looked up as if startled. But he did not wave to her or raise his sombrero. As she came racing up she scrutinized his dejected figure for wounds or bruises. There was nothing to indicate that he had been either shot or thrown. His sullen look when she drew up beside him not unnaturally changed her anxiety to vexation. "What made you so slow?" she queried. "You know how eager I am for the mail each time. You might as well have ridden your own hawss." "It--has come," he muttered. "What?" she demanded. "The letter from him." "Him?" echoed the girl, trying hard to cover her confusion with a look of surprise. His dejection deepened as he observed her heightened color and the light in her eyes. "Yes, from him," he mumbled. "Oh, you mean Mr. Blake, I suppose," she replied. Lightly as she spoke, she could not suppress the quiver of eagerness in her voice. "If you will kindly give it to me now." He drew out a letter, not from among the other mail in his pouch, but from his pocket. Her look of surprise showed that she was struck with the oddness of this. She was too excited, however, to consider what might be its meaning. She tore open the letter and read it swiftly. Her sparkling eyes and glowing cheeks when she looked up served only to increase Ashton's gloom. "So the fellow is coming," he groaned. "What else could I have expected?" The girl held out the open letter to him. It was in typewriting, addressed from Chicago, and read:-- Dear Madam: In reply to your letter of inquiry regarding an inspection to determine the feasibility of irrigating certain lands in your vicinity--my fee for personal inspection and opinion would be $50. per day and expenses, if I came as consulting engineer. However, I am about to make a trip to Colorado. If you can furnish good ranch fare for my wife, son, and self as guests, will look over your situation without charge. Wife wishes to rough-it, but must have milk and eggs. Will leave servants in car at Stockchute, where we shall expect a conveyance to meet us Thursday, the 25th inst., if terms agreeable. Respectfully yours, THOMAS BLAKE.