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 night—unless you've been in that country and know where the crossing is?"

"I never have seen the Cimarron River, much less the crossin' where they're goin' to meet, Miss Moore."

"You wouldn't know it was a river most of the time unless somebody told you, but this time of the year it's got some water in it along here. I've been over every inch of that country; I used to help pa out summers while he was gettin' his start. But I was only a kid then," she explained, as if to account for something that might be permitted then with propriety which would be out of ladylike bounds now.

"You could; I know by the way you ride that horse you could hold your own with any of them," Bill said, so serious and grave, nodding his head in his judicial habit, that the compliment was multiplied by five, at least.

"I've got a telegram for pa," Zora explained, pleased with this respectful sincerity where she was accustomed to either dumb monosyllabic embarrassment or shallow flippancy. "He gets a good many important ones about markets and business—I nearly always take 'em to him when he's out on the range. I have to chase him two or three days from camp to camp sometimes."

"I'd be proud if I could save you the trip," Bill said. "If you'll trust it to me I'll deliver it to Mr. Moore in the morning."

"You could," she said, gratefully.

Bill held out his hand for the telegram, but she didn't give it to him.

"You could start early in the morning and make it