"That's easy," he grinned; "there's the Diamond K brand on his hip."
They rode on a little distance in silence, and then she remembered that she was still curious about him. His frankness had affected her; she did not think it impertinent to betray curiosity.
"How long have you lived out here?" she asked.
"You weren't born here, of course--you have admitted that. Then where did you come from?"
"This is a large country," he returned, unsmilingly.
It was a reproof, certainly--Rosalind could go no farther in that direction. But her words had brought a mystery into existence, thus sharpening her interest in him. She was conscious, though, of a slight pique--what possible reason could he have for evasion? He had not the appearance of a fugitive from justice.
"So you're going to live out here?" he said, after an interval. "Where?"
"I heard father speak of buying Blakeley's place. Do you know where it is?"
"It adjoins mine." There was a leaping note in his voice, which she did not fail to catch. "Do you see that dark line over there?" He pointed eastward--a mile perhaps. "That's a gully; it divides my land from Blakeley's. Blakeley told me a month ago that he was dickering with an eastern man. If you are thinking of looking the place over, and want a trustworthy escort I should be pleased to recommend--myself." And he grinned widely at her.
"I shall consider your offer--and I thank you for it," she returned. "I feel positive that father will buy a ranch here, for he has much faith in the future of Manti--he is obsessed with it."
He looked sharply at her. "Then your father is going to have a hand in the development of Manti? I heard a rumor to the effect that some eastern company was interested, had, in fact, secured the water rights for an enormous section."
She remembered what Corrigan had told her, and blushingly dissembled:
"I put no faith in rumor--do you? Mr. Corrigan is the head of the company which is to develop Manti. But of course _that_ is an eastern company, isn't it?"
He nodded, and she smiled at a thought that came to her. "How far is it to Blakeley's ranchhouse?" she asked.
"About two parasangs," he answered gravely.
"Well," she said, mimicking him; "I could _never_ walk there, could I? If I go, I shall have to borrow a horse--or buy one. Could you recommend a horse that would be as trustworthy as the escort you have promised me?"