Virginia's eyes glowed with pride as she watched Vivian mount Siwash and ride away from the river. One would never have known it was the same Vivian who nearly seven weeks ago had begged to stay at home from the getting-acquainted trip. She had learned to ride well and easily, and no apparent fear, at least of Siwash, remained. With still more pride Virginia saw her tanned, happy face, the red color in her cheeks, and the extra pounds which Wyoming had given her. The Big Horn country had been kind to Vivian in more ways than one. "I never saw any one improve so in riding, Vivian," she could not resist saying. "You do every bit as well as Priscilla, and Don thinks she's a marvel. I'm proud as Punch of you!" Vivian's cheeks glowed redder. "I can't help but be a tiny bit pleased with myself," she said hesitatingly, "at least about the riding. And--and there are other things, too, Virginia. Of course I know there have been loads of silly things--Mr. Crusoe, for instance. I'll never forget how awful that was, even though you were all so fine about it. But in spite of everything foolish, I have learned things out here, Virginia, that I never knew in all my life. Mother and Father probably won't see any difference next week when I get home, but there is some just the same. I'm not quite such a--a coward as I was! I feel it inside!" "I know you do," said Virginia, riding Pedro closer. "It shows on your face, too. I guess what's really inside of us usually does. You're getting to be a good sport, Vivian, and we're all proud of it--with you!" The knowledge of Virginia's approval somehow made the mid-day heat less intense, and the two miles to the quaking-asps less long. It was good to reach them, and to lie at full length on the cool ground before drinking from the spring a few steps away. Pedro and Siwash were grateful, too, as they cropped the sweet, moist grass. A half hour here would sustain them against the three miles of sagebrush beyond. Virginia and Vivian lay flat on their backs with their arms straight above their heads and rested, as they had been taught to do at St. Helen's. Above them the interlaced branches of the quaking-asps shut out the sun. The air was still with that strange stillness which sometimes comes before a storm. Even the ever-active leaves of the quaking-asps moved not at all. "It's the stillest place I ever knew," said Vivian, as she reached for a cookie. "How far is it to the nearest house?" Virginia considered. "Six miles," she said. "No, there's a homesteader's cabin nearer. That's about four, I guess, but Michner's, the cattle ranch, is six. We always call them the nearest neighbors from here. It is still, isn't it?" "Awfully!" returned Vivian.