Her soul left the plush-covered seats and suit-cases to follow the wild creatures that moved in the gorges or climbed the wonderful mountain slopes. She did not hear the repeated “I’m going for a smoke, Bess.” Her soul was without, her eyes following a mysterious, half-hidden form. “It’s a deer! Oh, Jim, it’s a deer!” she exclaimed excitedly, turning to her brother for corroboration. But the flashing brown eyes looked into the face of a stranger. “Oh, I beg pardon,” she breathed, her cheek flushing. “My brother sat there only a moment ago, and I thought I was addressing him.” The stranger smiled. “Then I infer that you are Miss Fletcher. I just now saw Mr. Fletcher going into the smoking room. Two years ago I had the pleasure of making his acquaintance when he was in the Flathead country.” While he was speaking, she noted what a large man he was, how deliberately he spoke and in what an unusually musical voice. She saw the flush of health and strength in his face, contrasting so greatly to her brother’s pale, emaciated countenance. She wondered what color his eyes were, but as he looked at her with fleeting glances she could not tell. The thought flashed through her mind that he would be very handsome if only he would open his eyes frankly. In fact, so preoccupied was she reading the young man that she was scarcely aware of what he was saying to her. Just then she saw James coming. “Well, well, Mr. Davis! I’m glad to meet you once more.” Fletcher reached forth his hand in friendly recognition. “Permit me to introduce my sister, whom I am taking to the Flathead with me.” With a nod the stranger explained how he had already had the pleasure of speaking with Miss Fletcher. “You are not looking like the hale and hearty cowboy whom I saw two years ago riding over the range on the reservation,” he continued. “It must be the return to civilization did not agree with you.” “I was very well until a few months ago,” said Fletcher, “but the worry and strain of settling my father’s affairs used me up generally, and I am now going West to recuperate. I love the Western life, with its sunshine, its out-of-doors, its fresh air and vast breathing space. I wouldn’t exchange the three summers on the range for all my life in the city.” “Do you know, Mr. Davis, I have become so fascinated with tales of the cattle country that I feel almost as enthusiastic as my brother,” said Bess, brushing the stray lock of fluffy brown hair out of her eye. “Do you think,” she continued, “that I shall love the West as he does?” “I hope so,” said Davis, with a swift glance. “I already know what a cayuse is, and also a lariat, though I am not so sure as regards a teepee; still, if I remember correctly, it is something good to eat.” Simultaneously both gentlemen burst forth in hearty laughter, and when Davis could speak he said: “I am afraid, Miss Fletcher, your appetite will be gone when you see or even smell one.”