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 through the town and out toward Cheyenne Mountain. It was an exhilarating ride in the frosty air, with the sun blazing upon our backs and the buttresses of Cheyenne frowning down more and more superbly as we approached them.

"Mr. Dickson told me of your Indian war-whoop out on the plains," Miss Lamb said, as we rode along three abreast. "I know just how you felt when you did it."

"Try it yourself some time," said John. "It will do you lots of good."

"Oh, no! That is one of a woman's disabilities. If I were to try to shout, the result would be a shriek. Women are always in danger of doing something shrill if they allow themselves the slightest intensity."

"Yes, a 'slight intensity' might be shrill," John admitted with a laugh. "Did you ever run across anything so phenomenal?"

"Indeed I have," she rejoined, good-humoredly. "It is the most common