I hadn't heard.Give me your checks， please， and I'll have your traps loaded into the wagon.Jos？will follow with them.We travel ahead in the buckboard."Seated by Teddy in a feather-weight buckboard， behind a pair of wild， cream-coloured Spanish ponies， Octavia abandoned all thought for the exhilaration of the present.
They swept out of the little town and down the level road toward the south.Soon the road dwindled and dis-appeared， and they struck across a world carpeted with an endless reach of curly mesquite grass.The wheels made no sound.The tireless ponies bounded ahead at an unbroken gallop.The temperate wind， made fragrant by thousands of acres of blue and yellow wild flowers， roared gloriously in their ears.The motion was a雛ial， ecstatic， with a thrilling sense of perpetuity in its effect.
Octavia sat silent， possessed by a feeling of elemental， sensual bliss.Teddy seemed to be wrestling with some internal problem.
"I'm going to call you madama，" he announced as the result of his labours."That is what the Mexicans will call you -- they're nearly all Mexicans on the ranch， you know.That seems to me about the proper thing.""Very well， Mr.Westlake，" said Octavia， primly.
"Oh， now，" said Teddy， in some consternation， "that's carrying the thing too far， isn't it？""Don't worry me with your beastly etiquette.I'm just beginning to live.Don't remind me of anything artificial.If only this air could be bottled！ This much alone is worth coming for.Oh， look I there goes a deer！""Jack-rabbit，" said Teddy， without turning his head.
"Could I -- might I drive？" suggested Octavia， pant-ing， with rose-tinted cheeks and the eye of an eager child.
"On one condition.Could I -- might I smoke？ ""Forever！" cried Octavia， taking the lines with solemn joy."How shall I know which way to drive？""Keep her sou' by sou'east， and all sail set.You see that black speck on the horizon under that lowermost Gulf cloud？ That's a group of live-oaks and a land-mark.Steer halfway between that and the little hill to the left.I'll recite you the whole code of driving rules for the Texas prairies： keep the reins from under the horses' feet， and swear at 'em frequent.""I'm too happy to swear， Ted.Oh， why do people buy yachts or travel in palace-cars， when a buckboard and a pair of plugs and a spring morning like this can satisfy all desire？""Now， I'll ask you，" protested Teddy， who was futilely striking match after match on the dashboard， "not to call those denizens of the air plugs.They can kick out a hundred miles between daylight and dark." At last he succeeded in snatching a light for his cigar from the flame held in the hollow of his hands.
"Room！" said Octavia， intensely."That's what produces the effect.I know now what I've wanted --scope -- range -- room！ "
"Smoking-room，" said Teddy， unsentimentally."Ilove to smoke in a buckboard.The wind blows the smoke into you and out again.It saves exertion."The two fell so naturally into their old-time goodfellow-ship that it was only by degrees that a sense of the strange-ness of the new relations between them came to be felt.
"Madama，" said Teddy， wonderingly， "however did you get it into your bead to cut the crowd and come down here？ Is it a fad now among the upper classes to trot off to sheep ranches instead of to Newport？""I was broke， Teddy，" said Octavia， sweetly， with her interest centred upon steering safely between a Spanish dagger plant and a clump of chaparral； "I haven't a thing in the world but this ranch -- not even any other home to go to.""Come， now，" said Teddy， anxiously but ineredu-lously， "you don't mean it？"
"When my husband，" said Octavia， with a shy slurring of the word， "died three months ago I thought I had a reasonable amount of the world's goods.His lawyer exploded that theory in a sixty-minute fully illustrated lecture.I took to the sheep as a last resort.Do you happen to know of any fashionable caprice among the gilded youth of Manhattan that induces them to abandon polo and club windows to become managers of sheep ranches？""It's easily explained in my case，" responded Teddy， promptly."I had to go to work.I couldn't have earned my board in New York， so I chummed a while with old Sandford， one of the syndicate that owned the ranch before Colonel Beaupree bought it， and got a place down here.
I wasn't manager at first.I jogged around on ponies and studied the business in detail， until I got all the points in my head.I saw where it was losing and what the reme-dies were， and then Sandford put me in charge.I get a hundred dollars a month， and I earn it.""Poor Teddy！" said Octavia， with a smile.
"You needn't.I like it.I save half my wages， and I'm as hard as a water plug.It beats polo.""Will it furnish bread and tea and jam for another out-cast from civilization？"
"The spring shearing，" said the manager， "just cleaned up a deficit in last year's business.Wastefulness and inattention have been the rule heretofore.The autumn clip will leave a small profit over all expenses.Next year there will be jam."When， about four o'clock in the afternoon， the ponies rounded a gentle， brush-covered hill， and then swooped， like a double cream-coloured cyclone， upon the Rancho de las Sombras， Octavia gave a little cry of delight.Alordly grove of magnificent live-oaks cast an area of grateful， cool shade， whence the ranch had drawn its name， "de las Sombras" -- of the shadows.The house， of red brick， one story， ran low and long beneath the trees.
