Brand Blotters

The sun had climbed high and was peering down the walls of the gulch when

she awoke. She did not at once realize where she was, but came presently

to a blinking consciousness of her surroundings. The rock wall on one side

was still shadowed, while the painted side of the other was warm with the

light which poured upon it. The Gothic spires, the Moorish domes, the

weird and mysterious caves, which last night had given more than a touch

of awe to her majestic bedchamber, now looked a good deal less like the

ruins of mediæval castles and the homes of elfin sprites and gnomes.

"Buenos dios, muchacha," a voice called cheerfully to her.

She did not need to turn to know to whom it belonged. Among a thousand she

would have recognized its tone of vibrant warmth.

"Buenos," she answered, and, rising hurriedly, she fled to rearrange her

hair and dress.

It was nearly a quarter of an hour later that she reappeared, her thick

coils of ebon-hued tresses shining in the sun, her skirt smoothed to her

satisfaction, and the effects of feminine touches otherwise visible upon

her fresh, cool person.

"Breakfast is served," Norris sang out.

"Dinner would be nearer it," she laughed. "Why in the world didn't you

boys waken me? What time is it, anyhow?"

"It's not very late--a little past noon maybe. You were all tired out with

your tramp yesterday. I didn't see why you shouldn't have your sleep

out."

He was pouring a cup of black coffee for her from the smoky pot, and she

looked around expectantly for the others. Simultaneously she remembered

that she had not heard the bleating of the sheep.

"Where are the others--Mr. Farnum and Sam? And have you the sheep all

gagged?" she laughed.

He gave her that odd look of smoldering eyes behind half-shut lids.

"The boys have gone on to finish the drive for you. They started before

sun-up this morning. I'm elected to see you back home safely."

"But----"

Her protest died unspoken. She could not very well frame it in words, and

before his bold, possessive eyes the girl's long, dark lashes wavered to

the cheeks into which the hot blood was beating. Nevertheless, the feeling

existed that she wished one of the others had stayed instead of him. It

was born, no doubt, partly of the wave of shyness running through her,

but partly too of instinctive maidenly resistance to something in his

look, in the assurance of his manner, that seemed to claim too much. Last

night he had taken her by storm and at advantage. Something of shame

stirred in her that he had found her so easy a conquest, something too of

a new vague fear of herself. She resented the fact that he could so move

her, even though she still felt the charm of his personal presence. She

meant to hold herself in abeyance, to make sure of herself and of him

before she went further.