Strange how the old vanity held her back until something of the havoc in her face should be gone! One morning she set out early, riding her best horse, and she took a sheep trail across country.

The distance by road was much farther.

The June morning was cool, sparkling, fragrant.

Mocking birds sang from the topmost twig of cedars; doves cooed in the pines; sparrow hawks sailed low over the open grassy patches.

Desert primroses showed their rounded pink clusters in sunny places, and here and there burned the carmine of Indian paintbrush.