A horseman had turned into the street, and came cantering toward the house. But horsemen were part of the landscape in Colorado, and she scarcely noticed his approach till a joyful bark caused her to look up, just in time to see David take a flying leap over the gate and come dashing up to her.
"Why, David!" she cried; and then she stopped, abashed, for the horseman was already tying his pony to the post.
"Mrs. Tarbell?" he questioned, as he opened the gate; and without waiting for an answer, he went on: "I've come to thank you for getting my dog away from those scoundrels at the City Hall. They had the decency to tell me where to look for you."
"Oh, pray don't mention it!" said little Mrs. Nancy, with old-fashioned courtesy.
"Not mention it!" cried her visitor. "It was the kindest thing I ever heard of. I don't see what made you do it."
"Oh, I couldn't help it. David looked so miserable being dragged along at the end of a pole."
"The cowards!" he cried. "Don't get a chair, ma'am. I like the steps better. Did you call him David?" he asked, with a twinkle of amusement in his kind gray eyes, as he seated himself on the low step, with his long legs trailing off over the walk.
"Well, yes. I didn't know what else to call him, and as he'd been delivered out of the hands of the Philistines——"
"That's a good one!" cried the ranchman. "Come here, David. You've got a name now as well as a locket. Do you hear that?"
David had established himself between his master and his rescuer, and looked from one to the other with evident satisfaction. They were soon engaged in an amicable conversation, quite unconscious of the picture they were forming. The tall ranchman, clad in full cowboy paraphernalia, his extended legs encased in leathern "shaps" decorated with long fringes, his belt of rattlesnake-skin, his loose shirt showing a triangle of bronzed throat, in his hand the broad sombrero clasped about with a silver band.