But not before the one who declared he was hungry, and who was lying stretched out on a bed of dry leaves a short distance from the place where the Professor had been conducting his researches, had seen and taken stock of her, though unobserved by the girl herself, who, startled by the sudden sight of the face that had met hers, had looked neither to the right nor the left.

For a second the young man had been lost in amazement at the loveliness of the wild mountain beauty above. Slender and supple of figure, simply dressed in some dark blue material, the head uncovered and crowned by very fair hair, the face under it fair also, though slightly tanned by sun and wind, combined to make up a picture that held him spellbound. Seldom had he seen a face so perfect, so full of radiant beauty.

Jumping up from his reclining position, the young man shook himself free of leaves and twigs, and walking over to the cliffs, looked down from his superior height of six feet at his companion, who, while not small, looked less tall than he was, on account of his more square and stocky build. "I move that we go forward now, Professor, and look for Adam Young's farm before night descends on us," he said. "We have been six hours in the canyon, and if I an: not mistaken, our early meal was light." The Professor hesitated, seeing which his companion laughed and added:

"Besides, we will be here several months, while you carry on your researches for the Government, so surely we can now rest a while before you uncover any more strata."

"Very well, incorrigible one," said the Professor. "Lead on, as you say you know the way."

ing pasture land that forms part of Adam Young's stock farm, until a turn in the road shows a farmhouse in the distance, the only one in sight, and a mile beyond that the Virgin river,' where, I believe, the aforesaid Adam waters his stock."

"As simple as a geometrical problem," said the Professor, in his cheery voice. "I have had a good morning's work," he added, "and you, Beard-well, you have had a beautiful rest." He laughed as he spoke, a laugh that was pleasant to hear, and that showed white teeth between firm, clean-cut lips. The heart of a child, joined to the wisdom of a world-known scientist, had combined to make Professor Michael Logy what he was. At thirty-five, the years behind. him since he grew to manhood were a clean record.

The dark, beautiful face of the younger man was turned to him full of whimsical humor and pathos.

"Yes," he said, "I know I'm incorrigibly lazy, and that I don't make the most of my opportunities, and that I do. those things I ought not to do.; but I can work, Professor, when the spirit is on me. You don't deny that?"

The Professor looked up affectionately at the tall, handsome man striding along by his side.

"You can work like a beaver when you want to, Beard," he said. "That is why I see great things ahead for you. It is for you to make or mar your career. No one but Frank Beard can do the work I know Frank Beard is fitted to do."

"A logical induction, Professor," said the other, with a laugh whose richness of tone went echoing through the silent

canyon.

For another mile they trudged on ntil they emerged from the canyon, and a short walk around the spur of the mountain brought them to the road which formed the boundary of Adam. Young's farm. It was about five in the

afternoon, and the sun, high in the west, was magnificent. The keen, clear breath of the dry air was exhilarating, and involuntarily the Professor bared his head to the cool afternoon breeze. They were rapid walkers, and the remaining two miles, that brought them finally to the brow of the hill, were quickly traversed. Here, as their directions said, they would see the farmhouse, with valley and river in the distance, spread out before them.

But they were not prepared for the beauty of the scene at that time of year. Even Beard, careless as a rule of scenic effects, uttered an exclamation. As to the Professor, a passionate lover of nature, he sank down on the dry grass under foot, his soul in his grey eyes, and gave himself up to an ecstatic enjoyment of the scene.

Westward the grey farmhouse and its outbuildings, set in a vast expanse of pasture land, was backed by the afternoon sun, which cut a path of dazzling light across the river in the distance. Herds of cattle roamed over the land, while numerous others were standing ankle deep in the river near the shore. Eastward, range on range of the Virgin mountains were lit up by the sun's splendid rays, while below them, on the left, was a deep embrasure in the valley that suggested a dried-up watercourse. Everywhere the clear air of Arizona seemed to bring distant objects near, and make them visible and distinct. "A veritable Eden," said Beard, in his rich, lazy voice, "and presided over by an Adam, too, Professor. I wonder if there is an Eve in this scene of enchantment?" "Or a serpent?" said the Professor, dryly.

"We cannot do better than push on and find out," was the answer; and the Professor arose reluctantly, casting another glance at the deep embrasure down in the valley.

"I fancy," he said, "that at one time. this depression was a branch of the Virgin river, and flowed eastward through

some opening in the mountains to where it may have joined the Grand Canyon of the Colorado."

Beard threw up his hands and struck a whimsical attitude.

"No more geology to-day, if you please, Professor," he said. "The proper study for mankind at present is man; and man as a decidedly hungry animal at that."

"Well, we have arrived at our destination," said the Professor. "Have patience, Beard; a good supper will restore your equilibrium."

They were walking up the road that led to the house as he spoke, and presently they came in sight of the long, low, one-story building that was built with a wide porch in front. The ground directly facing the house was inclosed in at barbed wire fence, and was brilliant with flowers; here, also, was an expanse of fine green grass, showing careful cultivation. The whole gave a cheerful and homelike aspect to the house, which was enhanced by the smoke that curled upward from the kitchen chimney, suggesting to Beard the supper for which he longed.

The ground around the rest of the house was rough and uncultivated, the grass coarse and more dry than on the pasture lands, where a fine system of irrigation kept it irrigation kept it green and fresh throughout the summer. The Professor advanced, and was hesitating for a moment as to whether he should unlatch the gate and enter the inclosure, or go around to the back of the house, when suddenly the furious barking of a dog greeted their ears, and a magnificent Irish setter came bounding toward them. The Professor was in advance, but the dog passed him in a flash, and coming in sight of Beard, brought up on its haunches, its tail quivering, eyes gleaming, and emitting low growls that boded the young man no good.

Of physical courage Beard had no lack, so he stood his ground, looking

the animal squarely in the eye. What the next move might have been was doubtful, but at that moment the house door was flung open and a young girl came flying down through the inclos

ure.

"McDermott!" she called. "McDermott! How dare you, sir! Come here!" Instantly the dog lost its belligerent attitude and assumed one of abject submission. With bent head and tail between its legs, it half crept, half crawled toward the young girl, who stood, the incarnation of righteous indignation, just without the gate of the inclosure.

The moment the dog reached her feet she bent down, and taking hold of its collar with one strong, sunburned hand,

with the other she administered several cuts with a short riding whip; then, letting go her hold of the animal, she stood erect, and said: "Now, go." And the dog went, glancing at Beard out of the tail of his eye in passing. Whatever animosity the animal felt was evidently held in check by the girl's castigation, but not conquered.

It was only when her dog vanished around the house that his mistress turned to the two men with a smile.

"I am ashamed of my dog," she said. "It is the first time I ever knew him to greet a stranger that way, and I hope it will be the last." The Professor and Beard hastened to make light of the mat

ter.

Willingly would Beard, at least, have encountered a hundred snarling dogs for the sake of meeting the young girl before him; for here was the mountain beauty they had caught a glimpse of in the canyon. The Professor, also, recognized her. If the girl, on her part, knew him, she gave no sign.

"You must come in," she said. "We are just going to have supper, which you must share with us."

She led them into a wide hall that ran the length of the house, with a glass

door at the back; and making a courteous motion toward seats, she left them, after saying she would call her mother. They had not long to wait. A door on the left-hand side of the hall, in the rear, opened, and a sweet-faced woman advanced toward them. The once brown hair had turned grey; the figure, which at thirty had been slender and supple, was now at fifty cast in a more matronly mold; but it was the same face which had held and comforted Aileen Roche's dying eyes more than nineteen years ago-a face that inspired intuitive love. and trust. So thought Michael Logy as he advanced and returned the woman's pleasant greeting, while she, on her part, warmed to him at once. Instinctively they recognized in each other a community of aims and ideals. The time came when their friendship was cemented in a lifelong bond.

Briefly the Professor stated his errand. He was sent in the employ of the Government to make important geologihad letters of recommendation, which he cai investigations in that region. He proceeded to show. His work, he thought, might detain him until late in October; at present it was early in June. His friend he had met in Colorado, and finding he was bound for the same region, they had joined company. They were in search of an abiding place, and had been told that Adam Young, who owned and operated a large stock farm near the canyon, sometimes took tourists and others to board. Beard stated his errand. Not geology-oh, no! He was agent for a company in the East anxious to buy up large tracts of land, and use them for desirable emigrant settlement. They had, in fact, at present a party of about three hundred souls who wanted to emigrate to Arizona as soon as suitable land could be found and bought.

His handsome person and rich, SOnorous voice made a favorable impres

sion, and the business arrangements were soon concluded. Two rooms adjoining each other, and situated in a wing of the house, were at their disposal.

Evidently, in anticipation of their being required, the rooms had been made ready for them during their conversation with Mary Young.

Beard caught a glimpse of the daughter of the house vanishing down a side. corridor, followed by a farm girl bearing an empty bucket. With a few pleasant words Mary Young left them, after saying she would call them to supper in ten minutes.

III

An elderly man of patriarchal aspect sat alone in a luxuriously furnished office, high up in a building that occupied almost the centre of a busy city. The wide window in which his desk stood looked out on broad streets, pleasantly shaded, and beyond, in the distance, on a range of mountains, plainly visible from that high elevation.

The chief object, however, that would have attracted the eye of any one standing at the window was an immense granite building, topped at each end by three lofty towers. There was something unique in its aspect, proclaiming it, as indeed it was, the dominant force in the life of the city.

Presently the man, who had been reading a letter, pressed an electric button near his desk. The door of the room opened almost immediately in response to his ring, and a young man entered.

"You want me, sir?" he said.

"Ask Mr. Gordon to come here, please," was the answer, "and as soon as possible."

The young man bowed and withdrew. In about five minutes the door opened again, giving entrance to another man, rather advanced in years. The two

greeted each other as friends, the first occupant of the room placing a chair near his desk for the newcomer; then he resumed his seat, and spreading out the letter before him, glanced first at the sheet, then at his friend..

"I sent for you, Gordon," he said, "to consult you about Beard. He has been out since the semi-annual conference last

November, and it is now May. During that time he has been in New York, Rochester, Chicago, Denver and Phoenix. From Phoenix, where he arrived early in March, he has pushed northward through the country districts. His last letter, which I have before me, was written just before entering the Grand Canyon of the Colorado; from there he expected to proceed westward to a point near the Virgin river, where we have information that a large tract of land is for sale. It is this land that we want. Beard writes of success in all the cities he visited, but his letters seem to me to lack enthusiasm and interest, and in this last one I detect positive indifference, to say nothing of the fact that since entering Arizona he has loitered too long on the way."

The other man laughed.

"And so you think, Hunt, that all this means the boy is going to fall away? In that you are all wrong. I know Frank Beard; haste in anything he undertakes is not his distinguishing characteristic, but neither is supineness. Rather, he is slow and sure; relentless in pursuing that which he has once determined to win."

"Yes," said the other, "provided he wants it; but does he ardently want to see the realization of his present work? I doubt it."

"It has been meat and drink to him all his life," said the other, quietly. "He has been reared with no other idea. For his age he is only twenty-eight-he has already done well."

(To be continued.)

I

race.

F I were inclined to be pessimistic, I should have found an opportunity for indulging in gloomy reflections. I was there alone in the garden, you see, and the world, at least that part of it I inhabit, looked exceedingly pleasant, as viewed across the leaves of the one solitary larkspur that had planted itself at a considerable distance from the ample bed allotted to its The poet-who I firmly believe always considered sound more than accuracy-once called the larkspur the "knight errant" of the garden; but after an acquaintance extending over some years, I am rather inclined to call it the "garden tramp." Early in the spring you will religiously uproot all the vagrant plants and carry them back to the bed, which is so large and continually widening its territory that you may well feel uncomfortable before the rest of the court, with the unspoken charge of partiality meeting you from many faces. I say, you will bring back the strays with the loving hand of a mother; and lo! on some day such as this, there a wild, bluecoated fellow will stand before you, actually laughing at having escaped your vigilance. However, whether it is due. to the partiality of which his companions may too justly perchance accuse me, I have generally found the floral tramp securing for himself an agreeable setting. Now, this special one had selected a spot close to the low fence, overrun with Virginia creeper. A world of green was before and behind him, and he the one flower in the midst of it. There were no whites and golds for it to blend in with,

but there it stood alone, boldly commanding the eye and attention to itself solely. And it succeeded, as the bold usually do.

After my surprise at seeing it over there where never larkspur before had been, where none was wanted, I was forced to say the spot selected was admirably adapted to a flower that always appears to be wanting to "show off," as the children say. Nobody possessing eyesight was going to pass by the wayside nor stroll through the garden without seeing that bit of color caught on that straight, stout spike of green. And I am as firmly convinced none would withhold a smile of admiration. As for me, somehow that flower, laughing back at me from its place forbidden, found the key to a world of very pleasant thoughts, or perchance I should call it musings.

"Th world," said the bold larkspur, "is really the best thing we have. Down at the bottom of everything you are going to find good, and if you dive deep enough you will invariably draw it up; or, better still, if you wait long enough in hope and patience, you will see it float up to the top. I know," added the larkspur quickly, seeing, very likely, the thought the simile suggested, "you will say it is only worthless things the sea casts up; the treasures it hides forever in its bosom. That is true of the sea, but it is different with the earth, and the earth is the place I know best. Every thing of worth and beauty eventually earth gives up, and so does the heart. In some unexpected moment you will find a flower in this life when you