"Work, nothing else." "What do you do for amusement?" "Once in a while there is a dance in the hall over the drug-store, and on Sunday you can listen to a wretched sermon in the log church. The rest of the time you work or loaf in the saloons--or read. Old Nature has done her part here. But man--! Ever been in the Tyrol?" "Yes." "Well, some day the people of the plains will have sense enough to use these mountains, these streams, the way they do over there." It required only a few hours for Norcross to size up the valley and its people. Aside from Nash and his associates, and one or two families connected with the mill to the north, the villagers were poor, thriftless, and uninteresting. They were lacking in the picturesque quality of ranchers and miners, and had not yet the grace of town-dwellers. They were, indeed, depressingly nondescript. Early on the second morning he went to the post-office--which was also the telephone station--to get a letter or message from Meeker. He found neither; but as he was standing in the door undecided about taking the stage, Berea came into town riding a fine bay pony, and leading a blaze-face buckskin behind her. Her face shone cordially, as she called out: "Well, how do you stack up this morning?" "Tip-top," he answered, in an attempt to match her cheery greeting. "Do you like our town better?" "Not a bit! But the hills are magnificent." "Anybody turned up from the mill?" "No, I haven't heard a word from there. The telephone is still out of commission." "They can't locate the break. Uncle Joe sent word by the stage-driver asking us to keep an eye out for you and send you over. I've come to take you over myself." "That's mighty good of you; but it's a good deal to ask." "I want to see Uncle Joe on business, anyhow, and you'll like the ride better than the journey by stage." Leaving the horses standing with their bridle-reins hanging on the ground, she led the way to the office. "When father comes in, tell him where I've gone, and send Mr. Norcross's packs by the first wagon. Is your outfit ready?" she asked. "Not quite. I can get it ready soon." He hurried away in pleasant excitement, and in twenty minutes was at the door ready to ride. "You'd better take my bay," said Berea. "Old Paint-face there is a little notional." Norcross approached his mount with a caution which indicated that he had at least been instructed in range-horse psychology, and as he gathered his reins together to mount, Berrie remarked: "I hope you're saddle-wise." "I had a few lessons in a riding-school," he replied, modestly. Young Downing approached the girl with a low-voiced protest: "You oughtn't to ride old Paint. He nearly pitched the Supervisor the other day." "I'm not worried," she said, and swung to her saddle. The ugly beast made off in a tearing sidewise rush, but she smilingly called back: "All set." And Norcross followed her in high admiration.