"Land, don’t you know? Her dad owns that ther ranch down ter the prairie, close ter Yelm Station. Likely she was tendin’ Post Office, ef it was train time, when you kem past." "Yes, yes, she was." Stratton laughed softly, and allowed his horse to pace down into the stream. "So that pretty coquette I saw at the Station is your cousin. Well, well." "You bet. I ’low she’s pretty ’nough, an’ sassy, too, as ther Lord makes ’em. An’ she always lets on she thinks er sight more o’ that there sorrel filly than she does o’ Mill." Stratton laughed again, and the chestnut splashed on through the ford and trotted up the opposite bank. A little later he stopped at the schoolhouse, and the young man dismounted and went up to the open door. The teacher was there, writing at her desk. She looked up, and, seeing him on the steps, continued her paragraph. She had thought over that chance meeting at the canyon a good many times, wondering at Forrest’s behavior, yet assuring herself that his reason was just; it gathered weight since he had not been able to give her an explanation. Paul was not a man of moods; it was his way to see any man’s best until he had strong proof of his other side. Still, this stranger was so interesting, so polished, so well accoutered, so altogether different from any she had met on the Nisqually trail, or for that matter, anywhere, it was a pity there should be something objectionable in the way of knowing him. She told herself this while she wrote her signature, and folding the sheet, fitted it in an envelope, which she sealed and addressed before she again raised her eyes. He waited, watching her, smiling a little, interested, but embarrassed not at all. "Now may I come in?" he asked. She did not answer, but she rose from her chair, and surprised, holding her head high, stood with the lovely color coming and going in her face, while he walked up the aisle. "I am sure, Miss Hunter," he said, "that you must have heard all about me by now. I know your sister so well; but I have somewhere,"—he felt in one pocket, then another,—"the necessary introduction from the Captain, your brother-in-law. Ah, here it is." So he had a letter from Philip. Of course that changed the situation. She could not be rude to him, but—she _would be careful_. And his manner in presenting the note was after all irreproachable. He had at once the grace of a Southerner, and the unhurried pose of an English gentleman; there was, too, the touch of an accent in his deliberate speech, at times almost a drawl, that made her wonder if it had been inherited, with his long black lashes, from a French or perhaps Spanish mother. "Of course," she said, "I am always glad to meet my sister’s or the Captain’s friends. You must have come directly from him; perhaps you have seen her lately."