"Right you are there," said Ned, "I'm always putting my foot in it one way or another; I wouldn't advise anybody to make a confidant of me, I'd give them away sure. I say, Everard," he continued, while his brother and Van Dorn exchanged cordial greetings, "how are you getting on, and how is the Buncombe-Boomerang combination?" "We have been very successful so far, everything is nearly in readiness, and the combination as you call it, cannot exist much longer; we will give you full particulars later." "And how are the ladies?" Ned inquired further. "They are well, and waiting to give you and your brother a royal welcome." "Thank you," Morton Rutherford replied, "I am quite anxious to meet them, Ned, of course, can speak for himself." "That he can, and generally does when the right time comes," responded that individual, "you will find I am a universal favorite here, in the camp of the Philistines." In a little while they were on their way to camp, Houston and Morton Rutherford occupying the back seat of the light, canopy-top wagon, while Van Dorn and Ned took the forward seat with the driver, the horses and baggage following with one of the mining teams. Morton Rutherford gave his friend a glowing account of his journey through the west, dwelling at considerable length on his enjoyment of the scenic routes. As they wound upward through the canyon, he grew ecstatic over the wild beauty and rugged grandeur extending in every direction, and when they finally drew rein before the long, low boarding house, nestling at the foot of the mountain, with its rustic, vine-covered porch, and surrounded on all sides by the wild scenery of that region, his admiration knew no bounds. "What a delightful retreat!" he exclaimed, "what a study for an artist!" Within the porch, among the vines, the ladies awaited their coming, and Lyle, looking forth from her shady retreat, saw the face whose image had been imprinted on heart and brain, and at a glance she read all she had expected to find, and more. There were the fine features, expressing such depth and power, and yet such delicacy of thought and feeling, the intellectual brow, the dark, expressive eyes, all as she had seen them in the picture; but what picture could convey the living beauty of the whole? It was the face of one whom women would worship, and men would follow even to death.