Then a voice from one side startled him.
"Mawnin', stranger." A girl stepped out from beside a pine.

She carried a rifle.

Her face flashed richly brown, but she was not Mexican.

This fact, and the sudden conviction that she had been watching him, somewhat disconcerted Jean.
"Beg pardon--miss," he floundered.

"Didn't expect, to see a--girl....
I'm sort of lost--lookin' for the Rim--an' thought I'd find a sheep herder who'd show me.