"You bet! No finer little girl in this territory!" Giddings replied
promptly.

They were now in sight of the Jones ranch. "There she is!" "Red" cried.
"Pretty, eh?"

The low adobe house, with its gleaming roof, looked like a jewel set in the
valley. Far away, seemingly to the very rim of the world, the flat lands
stretched; and then beyond, in a golden haze, the stern mountains loomed,
almost kissing the sky. The range dwindled away in an endless line, and
one could never say where the boundary of Arizona stopped and the unseen
border of Mexico began. The two countries simply merged in the mist. It was
as if a battalion of petrified soldiers kept eternal guard in the sun, half
the line loping over into another camp, but never caring at all. In the
still heat of the afternoon, sagebrush lifted its bright face to the
heavens; and now and then a lonely bird swooped above the rich ranches and
desolate valleys, making a black dot against the sky. A soft wind was
blowing now, bringing mercy from the west, and silence brooded like an
angel, stretching out its wings as though to shelter a troubled world.

A young man with black hair and tanned skin came out in the yard, hatless.
A gray flannel shirt and a flowing tie, high leggings that laced through
many brass clips, completed his picturesque costume.

One look--and she knew it was Gilbert--_her_ Gilbert. He recognized her at
the same instant, and a curious light came into his dark eyes. She had been
thinking, all the way down the road, how she should greet him if indeed he
turned out to be that one man in the world. Calmly, yes. She was sure now
that Morgan knew and suspected nothing. It was simply a coincidence that
they should be coming to the adobe of this old love of hers. The long arm