remembering the words of the Texan, "no, the man was there all the
time. The real man that is _you_ was concealed by the unreal man that
is superficiality."

"Thank you, Alice," he said gravely. "And for your sake--and I say it
an all sincerity--let the best man win!"

The girl smiled up into his face: "And in all sincerity I will say that
in all your life you have never seemed so--so marryable as you do right
now."

While Endicott cut a supply of fire-wood and tinkered about the spring,
the girl made a complete circuit of the little plateau, and as the
shadows began to lengthen they once more climbed to their lookout
station. For an hour the vast corrugated plane before them showed no
sign of life. Suddenly the girl's fingers clutched Endicott's arm and
she pointed to a lone horseman who rode from the north.

"I wonder if he's the same one we saw before--the one who rode away so
fast?"

"Not unless he has changed horses," answered Endicott. "The other rode
a grey."

The man swung from his horse and seemed to be minutely studying the
ground. Then he mounted and headed down the coulee at a trot.

"Look! There is Tex!" cried Endicott, and he pointed farther down the
same coulee. A sharp bend prevented either rider from noticing the
approach of the other.