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 HE HELD UP THE FLOWERS 
 (Page 37.)
 
 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 OF THE SAN COULEE 
 
 H Stors for iris 
 
 MRS. CARRIE L. MARSHALL 
 
 Author of "Two Wyoming Girls," Etc. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY IDA WAUGH 
 
 THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 PHILADELPHIA MDCCCXCIX
 
 COPYRIGHT 1897 BY THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I WE BUY A SHEEP RANCH 7 
 
 II FAREWELL TO ELM WOOD 22 
 
 III ACROSS THE PLAINS IN A PRAIRIE SCHOONER ... 39 
 
 IV A PERILOUS RIDE 57 
 
 V OUR NEW HOME 71 
 
 VI WHY MR. SEATON SOLD THE RANCH 84 
 
 VII A CHANGE OF OPINION 101 
 
 VIII A VISIT FROM THE MEXICAN SHEPHERDS .... 112 
 
 IX INEXPERIENCED HERDERS 126 
 
 X A STAMPEDED FLOCK 142 
 
 XI THE WHIP-POOR-WILLS 159 
 
 XII ROUNDING UP UNDER DIFFICULTIES 174 
 
 XIII ON THE PLAINS 189 
 
 XIV AN ODD ACQUAINTANCE 203 
 
 XV A WILD RIDE 215 
 
 5
 
 6 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XVI A FRIKND IN NEED 231 
 
 XVII THE SHEARING OF THE SHEEP 246 
 
 XVIII NEWS FROM HOME 260 
 
 XIX A SECOND STAMPEDE 270 
 
 XX A SERIOUS ACCIDENT 280 
 
 XXI AMONG THE SNOW WRAITHS 293 
 
 XXII MR. SEATON is CORNERED 309
 
 THE GIRL RANCHERS OF THE SAN 
 COULEE 
 
 CHAPTER 1 
 
 WE BUY A SHEEP RANCH 
 
 "THERE must be a change made, and at once!" 
 exclaimed Aunt Matilda firmly. She was rock- 
 ing herself back and forth, as was her wont 
 when excited, in the little cane-seated sewing 
 chair that had been mother's, and the soles of 
 her slippers struck the carpet with a soft thud 
 at every forward swing. 
 
 Father, who was just recovering from one of 
 the frequent coughing fits that left him weak 
 and exhausted, found breath to murmur : 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I suppose so. No doubt you are 
 right, Matilda," but his manner was so absent 
 that Aunt Matilda immediately returned to the 
 charge with added emphasis : 
 
 7
 
 8 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 " There must be a radical change, Hugh ; I 
 wish that you realized it more than you appear 
 to." 
 
 " Well, Matilda, perhaps I do realize it ; 
 what then ?" father returned, settling back in 
 his own chair and giving up the intention that 
 he had evidently entertained of slipping into 
 the study, the half-open door of which revealed 
 a table littered with an alluring array of proof 
 sheets. " But what good does that do, since we 
 have no money for traveling purposes ? If that 
 New York firm had bought the patent for my 
 invention, as they more than half promised to 
 do, there would be no occasion for saying that, 
 but they didn't buy it, and I must wait until I 
 can dispose of the patent for making wood in- 
 combustible. The invention for building houses 
 of earthenware is the one that has a fortune in 
 it. The proof sheets of my book on the subject 
 came by this morning's mail," he glanced again 
 at the study table, " but that will take time to 
 work up, the other will do to realize on for 
 ready cash."
 
 WE BUY A SHEEP RANCH 9 
 
 Our big, bare, old-fashioned house that father 
 had inherited from his father before him was 
 littered from cellar to attic with the curious re- 
 sults of father's inventive genius. There was 
 not one of these that he had not counted confi- 
 dently upon to procure plenty of ready money. 
 Mother, who died when Vevie was a tiny baby, 
 was a dainty, impatient little creature, prone to 
 look around on the household shabbiness, daily 
 growing more pronounced, and bursting into 
 tears whenever father spoke of getting the 
 money that was so sadly needed, through some 
 of his inventions. But Aunt Matilda was of 
 different stuff; she would have gone to the 
 stake and suffered slow torment before she 
 would have allowed her sensitive, ailing brother 
 to suspect for an instant that she doubted the 
 practicability of anything that he attempted. 
 She had lived with us since mother's death, 
 worked for us, made the most of our few suc- 
 cesses, carried our burdens on her shoulders 
 and our sorrows in her loyal heart. She would 
 have gone on in the same way until her tireless
 
 10 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 feet came to a final halt at the grave had it not 
 been for the report that the great doctor whom 
 she had induced father to consult, gave upon his 
 case ; then she was aroused to activity in a new 
 direction. Tender as she was of father's feel- 
 ings, she yet gave him no peace upon this sub- 
 ject, no opportunity to subside into his usual 
 absent-minded, speculative content. She prod- 
 ded him continually with merciless little re- 
 minders of what the doctor had said, until, 
 placidly indifferent as he was when the topic 
 under discussion happened to be his own health, 
 she did at last succeed in securing his attention, 
 and that was half the battle, for his mind 
 worked with unusual clearness and effectiveness 
 when his interest was once enlisted. 
 
 Aunt Matilda made no reply to his remark 
 about the incombustible wood invention, but re- 
 peated her previous declaration. 
 
 " There's got to be a change, Hugh ; I shall 
 not rest day or night until it is accomplished." 
 
 Father crossed his legs, clasped his long, thin 
 hands over one knee, and prepared to argue the
 
 WE BUY A SHEEP RANCH 11 
 
 case. The cough that had made an appeal to 
 the doctor necessary stopped him for a moment, 
 then he began persuasively : 
 
 " My dear sister, we must all die sooner or 
 later; it would seem that in my case if the 
 doctor is right, and he may not be it will be a 
 little sooner than " 
 
 " There ! That's enough !" Aunt Matilda ex- 
 claimed brusquely. " I don't want to hear any 
 more talk of that sort ; and it's unkind in you to 
 say such things, Hugh, when you know so well 
 that there is a means of restoring your health, 
 which will never be restored until that means is 
 taken." 
 
 Father sighed. "Granted, Matilda, that I 
 am worth all the trouble that you are disposed 
 to take in my behalf. I tell you, honestly, 
 that I cannot go to the mountains alone ; my 
 last estate would then be worse than my first, 
 for I should die of homesickness, and if I 
 must choose between two evils I greatly pre- 
 fer to die comfortably of consumption here at 
 home, than away off somewhere alone among
 
 12 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 strangers. Here, I have you and the children 
 about me." 
 
 At that Florence, who had been sitting silent 
 in the corner, biting her lips and winking back 
 her tears, sprang to his side, threw her arms 
 around his neck, and sobbed, " I don't want you 
 to die at all, anywhere, papa !" 
 
 Aunt Matilda stamped her foot. " Florence, 
 I am ashamed of you ! Have you no self-con- 
 trol ? Look at Elsie !" 
 
 Here let me say that I who am writing this 
 narrative, am Elsie. At the time Aunt Matilda 
 spoke I was sitting very erect, gazing steadily 
 out of the window and away from father, con- 
 scious that the thread of my sorely tried en- 
 durance might snap at any moment, and in fear 
 lest Aunt Matilda might unwittingly give the 
 final disastrous tug that should snap it. " Leave 
 me out of the question, if you please," I said 
 stiffly. Aunt Matilda glanced at me, dashed 
 the back of her hand across her eyes she would 
 have disdained to make use of a handkerchief at 
 such a juncture and replied huskily:
 
 WE BUY A SHEEP RANCH 13 
 
 " Well, I will. Sit down, Florence, you are 
 very inconsiderate." 
 
 " Elsie is a stoic," father said, his kind, bright 
 eyes twinkling. " You see, Mattie, I've got so 
 little stamina that I couldn't get along without 
 the tonic that such natures as your own and 
 Elsie's furnish me." 
 
 " You shall have that tonic, Hugh ; we will 
 all go with you." 
 
 " How, for instance ?" 
 
 " Well, there's this place and my farm." 
 
 " Yes ; if either could be set down in the 
 midst of some delightful mountain valley 
 one could ask for nothing more; but, unfor- 
 tunately, they are here and the valley is 
 there." 
 
 " Their proceeds might easily be put there," 
 returned Aunt Matilda, significantly. 
 
 " You mean that we shall sell out ? Oh, I 
 don't know. It would be hard to part with the 
 old place, or " his voice sank very low " it 
 would have been hard before Donald went away. 
 There's a a sense of desolation about it now
 
 14 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 that I never seemed to feel before ; it's getting 
 shabby, I fancy." 
 
 Florence had perched herself on one arm of 
 his chair and he had an arm around her ; he 
 pushed her aside gently, the better to lean for- 
 ward and scan the large room and its old-fash- 
 ioned, carefully mended furniture; its ceiling 
 where the broken plastering would sag in the 
 middle in spite of Aunt Matilda's various and 
 ingenious experiments with tacks, muslin, and 
 plentiful paste to keep it in place. Then his 
 glance wandered out through the window to the 
 shabby out-buildings, the weedy, unkempt lawn, 
 and the crooked, gnarled old orchard trees un- 
 der which Vevie and Calif, the greyhound, were 
 at the moment playing. " It is deplorably run 
 down ; it is dilapidated," he admitted, sighing ; 
 " but," brightening up suddenly, " we needn't 
 sell on that account, Mattie. When I begin 
 to realize on some of my inventions we can 
 make the old place as fine as you please." 
 
 "I am not troubled about the old place, 
 Hugh ; it does very well. What does trouble
 
 WE BUY A SHEEP RANCH 15 
 
 me is the state of your health ; we must go to 
 the mountains, as the doctor said. We must 
 begin to look about at once for some investment, 
 some business, in a desirable locality where you 
 can regain your health and we can do some- 
 thing toward gaining our living at the same 
 time." 
 
 " The investment idea is all right, Mattie, but 
 there is no occasion for troubling ourselves as to 
 the future. I feel that that is secure." 
 
 He was thinking of his inventions again, 
 and I knew from the expression on her face 
 that Aunt Matilda was asking herself des- 
 perately what one could do in the face of such 
 persistent hopefulness. After a moment's 
 silence she continued: 
 
 " Still, Hugh, I should feel more at ease if I 
 could see a direct way of making money, or of 
 making our living as we go along; that is all that 
 I want. We the girls need the training that 
 some kind of business responsibility will give ; 
 even farming. You know that all women are 
 expected to have a business training nowadays."
 
 16 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 " The more the pity," responded the father, 
 who, like his house, is old-fashioned. " But, of 
 course, you are right ; you always are. We'll 
 start an exploring party for the mountains on 
 paper with as little delay as possible." As I 
 said before, when father's interest is fairly 
 aroused he is energetic enough, and now, hav- 
 ing decided, or having allowed Aunt Matilda to 
 decide for him, on emigration, he set himself 
 industriously to work, with her assistance, to 
 learn what he could of the West and the oppor- 
 tunities it had to offer new-comers. 
 
 The final outcome of much writing back and 
 forth, here and there, was the purchase of a 
 sheep ranch in the valley of the San Coulee, 
 well up among the Wind River Mountains in 
 Montana. The ranch, which comprised a big 
 slice of the valley, was stocked with a flock of 
 three thousand high grade sheep, and the pur- 
 chase included corrals, sheds, water privileges, 
 winter and summer range, a two years lease of 
 a large tract of school land whatever that 
 might be and a number of other things that I
 
 WE BUY A SHEEP RANCH 17 
 
 had never heard of before, neither, I am sure, 
 had any of the others. 
 
 Father and aunt were greatly pleased. 
 
 " It will be a life of gentle activity for us all," 
 father said, in talking over the purchase after 
 the necessary transfer of papers and the pay- 
 ment of the first instalment of the purchase- 
 money, which we were to pay in four quarterly 
 instalments, or, if we desired, were at liberty to 
 make full payment at any time during the year. 
 " We will naturally wish to look pretty closely 
 after our flock, but the real hard work of the 
 ranch will be done by the Mexican herders, 
 who, Mr. Seaton says, may be hired for a trifle 
 and are perfectly reliable." 
 
 " I never knew much about any sheep except 
 the one that Mary had and that was only a 
 lamb," Florence remarked cheerfully ; " but I 
 fancy it won't be much work to keep an eye on 
 the merinos." 
 
 " Sheep are such gentle things, too," chimed 
 in Aunt Matilda ; " I remember, don't you, 
 Hugh, those on grandfather's farm ?" 
 2
 
 18 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 " Y es, yes, I do, Matilda. I remember that 
 one of them tossed me nearly over the barn one 
 day. I was stooping down inspecting an ant- 
 hill in the barnyard when I was struck by some- 
 thing back of me with such force that I seemed 
 to have been suddenly fired from the mouth of 
 a cannon. I landed upon the roof of a low 
 shed in front of me, and to this day I don't 
 know whether I was tossed up there or scram- 
 bled up myself, but when I recovered sufficient 
 presence of mind to look about me, there I was, 
 and there below me was old Montague, the big 
 merino ram, pawing the ground with one foot 
 and entreating me to come down and give him 
 another chance at me." 
 
 " Did you go ?" asked Vevie, with interest. 
 
 " Not that day, my dear ; I had had enough." 
 
 " We can cull out any ill-tempered or vicious 
 sheep from our flock," Aunt Matilda said, with 
 a business-like air. " I feel sure that we will 
 enjoy giving the creatures whatever attention 
 we may feel necessary." 
 
 I am always the one who produces the
 
 WE BUY A SHEEP RANCH 19 
 
 proverbial wet blanket in our hopeful family, 
 so now I ventured, " We know so little about 
 the business it may be quite an undertaking, as 
 much, perhaps, as it would be to run a cattle 
 ranch." 
 
 Aunt Matilda looked at me reproachfully. 
 " I don't know how you can think that, Elsie. 
 I should be terribly afraid to attempt the 
 management of a cattle ranch. But there is 
 nothing more tractable, more easily led than a 
 sheep." 
 
 Months afterward, in the light of bitter ex- 
 perience, I recalled and revised that remark of 
 Aunt Matilda's. By that time I knew there 
 was something more tractable, more easily led 
 than a sheep, and that was a family of Eastern 
 people bent upon Western achievements. We 
 had purchased the ranch on the San Coulee 
 after due investigation into its title by a lawyer 
 in Belmont, the town nearest the valley. The 
 price was so low compared with that of other 
 properties of the kind that that alone should 
 have made us suspicious of something wrong,
 
 20 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 but it did not; we simply counted ourselves 
 fortunate in discovering Mr. Seaton. As that 
 gentleman was about leaving the valley he 
 offered to sell us the furnishings of the ranch 
 house also at a bargain, and the offer was eagerly 
 accepted. Mr. Seaton further offered to meet 
 us at Carston, the railway station most conve- 
 nient to San Coulee, but, nevertheless, nearly 
 one hundred miles distant from the valley. He 
 was to pilot us to the ranch, and as his time was 
 limited he hinted that it would be a good deal 
 of an accommodation to him if we could manage 
 to come out soon. Nothing could have suited 
 us better, but a sale of the household goods that 
 we would not now be obliged to transport was 
 necessary before we could leave. It was finally 
 decided to dispose of them at public auction, and 
 a day for the sale was set. Father grew so in- 
 terested in talking of the far-off sheep ranch 
 and the novel experiences awaiting us that he 
 really seemed to be already on the high road to 
 recovery. I said to him one day, it was the 
 day before the sale, I remember, " You seem so
 
 WE BUY A SHEEP RANCH 21 
 
 much better, father ; just the thought of going 
 to the mountains has helped you." 
 
 " I believe it has, Elsie, and then, do yoq 
 know, there's a kind of clay in the Wind River 
 region I read it in the Gazette that Seaton sent 
 that if all that's claimed for it is true may 
 prove to be the very thing I've been looking 
 for these twenty years. It's fine, soft, non- 
 porous, lends itself readily to treatment. It 
 may be the very thing for hollow brick. If the 
 sheep ranch fails there may be a fortune in that 
 clay. I shall be deeply interested in examining 
 and experimenting with it." 
 
 Poor father ! It was for our sakes that he so 
 persistently followed what seemed the will-o'- 
 the-wisp of his invention, but my heart sank a 
 little as I realized that the clay banks of the 
 Wind River range if he could get to them 
 would be likely to engage a greater share of his 
 attention than the sheep ranch in which all of 
 our own fortune, as well as Aunt Matilda's, had 
 been invested.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 FAREWELL TO ELMWOOD 
 
 THE day of the sale came and went. In 
 addition to our own desire to have the business 
 of transplanting our home over with, we were 
 anxious to gratify Mr. Seaton by detaining him 
 as short a time as possible, and he made such a 
 point of meeting us that it seemed he would not 
 leave the valley until we came. We th ought ,it 
 was very kind of him then to take so much 
 trouble on our account ; afterward we had reason 
 to believe that he had a purpose in wishing to 
 help us to form our first impressions of the val- 
 ley and its people, for these impressions might 
 not have been flattering to him had any of his 
 neighbors been our guide. 
 
 The day after the sale our trunks were packed, 
 our tickets purchased, and such household arti- 
 cles as we had decided to take with us, includ- 
 ing Florence's organ, were already shipped and 
 22
 
 FAREWELL TO ELMWOOD 23 
 
 well on their way, but there were still a number 
 of things to be done before we were ready to 
 board the cars at four o'clock that afternoon. 
 Florence had put off a decision as to which of 
 her numerous oil paintings were worthy of 
 being taken along until the last possible mo- 
 ment, and now she was in the front room pull- 
 ing over a pile of canvases, grumbling discon- 
 tentedly at nearly every one. While I was 
 waiting to help her pack those she might settle 
 upon finally I stood beside the uncurtained win- 
 dow, daring for the first time in many weeks to 
 permit myself to think upon Donald. Donald 
 was the only child of father's dearest friend, 
 Mr. Arleigh. When he was twelve years old 
 his parents both died, and it seemed the most 
 natural thing in the world that the orphaned 
 lad should come to us ; he had no near relatives, 
 no place that seemed so much like home to him 
 as the house of his father's friend, who had no 
 son. 
 
 It was before Vevie's birth that he became a 
 member of our family, when Florence and I
 
 24 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 were just wee girls. The little property that he 
 had inherited from his father was sold and the 
 proceeds put in the bank, to remain there at in- 
 terest until Donald was twenty-one. He was 
 educated at father's expense well educated 
 and none of us realized how little father could 
 afford to spare the money until Donald left us, 
 for that was what he did. It was a terrible 
 blow to father, though he made no complaint. 
 Donald seemed to take a keen interest in the 
 pursuits that father found so fascinating. Ap- 
 parently he had more faith in the incombustible 
 wood invention and the scheme for making 
 earthenware houses than even father himself, 
 and it was because he so sorely missed the young 
 man's intelligent sympathy and quick under- 
 standing that he failed so rapidly after Donald 
 left. We all knew that his desertion was break- 
 ing father's heart, but none of us said so. Ordi- 
 nary matters seldom worried him, but when 
 Donald disappeared the hurt went deep. It 
 transpired also that Donald had drawn from 
 the bank every cent of the money that belonged
 
 FAREWELL TO ELMWOOD 25 
 
 to him. He had done worse he had taken 
 samples and models of all father's inventions, 
 even to the descriptive letter press and the in- 
 combustible formula which he would understand 
 so well how to manipulate, and had gone, gone ! 
 Father never uttered a word of complaint against 
 him, and Florence and I dared not say to him 
 that we thought Donald had probably seen the 
 value of his inventions and stolen them. Youth 
 is apt to be hard on youth. 
 
 To think, then, of him had always given rise 
 to bitter anger and grief, at least with Florence 
 and me, but never at any time did it have this 
 effect upon father and Aunt Matilda, who, it 
 seemed to me, were more dazed than angered by 
 Donald's desertion. Now that we were going 
 away, if he ever returned it would be to an 
 empty house, or to one occupied by strangers. 
 So I fell to thinking more kindly of our foster 
 brother. 
 
 It was not very long after Donald's departure 
 that Aunt Matilda induced father to consult a 
 doctor in regard to his health, which was failing
 
 26 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 so fast, but we all knew that Donald's re-appear- 
 ance, no matter what explanation he might give 
 of his strange conduct, would be a better medi- 
 cine for poor father than any doctor's stuff or 
 change of climate. 
 
 I was aroused from the study of this sad 
 puzzle by hearing the click of the gate latch. I 
 looked out; a stately female figure was ad- 
 vancing majestically up the short walk from 
 gate to doorway. 
 
 "Florence, Mrs. Elliot is coming," I said 
 in a warning voice. 
 
 Florence, who had been on her knees in rapt 
 contemplation of one of her own creations, 
 sprang up, turning the picture with its face to 
 the wall, and murmuring in tragic improvi- 
 sation : 
 
 " My soul be strong ! It ain't for long, 
 In San Coulee she don't belong." 
 
 " You go to the door, won't you, Elsie ?" she 
 added, as the bell rang. 
 
 " Yes ; of course ; where's Aunt Matilda ?" 
 " Upstairs ; she's got a bad headache and is
 
 FAEEWELL TO ELMWOOD 27 
 
 lying down for a few minutes. Vevie has gone 
 over to Mrs. Lamb's to fetch a cup of tea for 
 her." 
 
 The bell rang again, and I made haste to 
 answer it; my footsteps awakening a dreary 
 echo that accompanied them down the length 
 of the uncarpeted hall. I opened the door and 
 Mrs. Elliot, entering, returned my greeting 
 suavely, asking for Aunt Matilda. " She is 
 lying down ; she has a bad headache," I said, 
 mentally debating whether it was my duty to ask 
 Mrs. Elliot in. She settled the matter herself 
 by starting towarclJlie sitting-room where there 
 were a few pieces 01 furniture left by their pur- 
 chasers for our use. 
 
 " Everything is in dreadful disorder, Mrs. 
 Elliot ; I hope you will excuse it," I said, follow- 
 ing her. 
 
 " Certainly, certainly, and I can feel for you, 
 too, my dear Miss Elsie ! It's a sad, sad busi- 
 ness !" 
 
 " Why, I don't know," I returned rather 
 nettled by this view of the case. " Of course it
 
 28 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 is sad that father's health should fail, but we 
 hope" 
 
 Mrs. Elliot shook her head. It was plain 
 that she had small toleration for my poor 
 little hopes. " It's kind in your family to try 
 to shield Donald Arleigh, but I think we all 
 understand the young man's status. Your 
 aunt is ill, you say ? No wonder ! After 
 what she has had to bear!" 
 
 " I did not say she was ill, Mrs. Elliot, only 
 that she has a headache and is tired." 
 
 Mrs. Elliot shook her head again, shut her 
 lips and sighed ; she had come prepared to con- 
 dole, and condole she would. 
 
 " It's a dreadful thing that she must be trans- 
 planted at her age, and forced to pass the few 
 remaining years of her life in a strange land." 
 
 " Aunt Matilda isn't an old woman, and we 
 are only going to Montana, which isn't a strange 
 land," returned Florence with some heat. 
 
 " You'll find it strange enough compared to 
 this," our visitor insisted. " My nephew went 
 through there once on the cars well, I have no
 
 FAREWELL TO ELMWOOD 29 
 
 wish to discourage you. No doubt it's all for 
 the best. The Lord, He doeth all things well. 
 I hope you'll remember that in times of dis- 
 tress or danger. There's an Indian reservation 
 close by your valley, I understand. My nephew 
 told me but there ! I won't discourage you. 
 And, no doubt, the Indians and cowboys are less 
 wild than they used to be ; you are going into 
 the region of cowboys, if I hear aright." 
 
 She spoke as though they were a kind of wild 
 animal, and Florence informed her perversely : 
 
 " Oh, we're not all afraid of cowboys ; we've 
 bought one that is, there was one thrown in 
 with the ranch." 
 
 Mrs. Elliot glared at her with such an unbe- 
 lieving, yet shocked expression, that I thought 
 it was no more than fair to set the matter right. 
 " Florence means, Mrs. Elliot, that there was a 
 poor fellow who had always lived on the ranch ; 
 he doesn't seem to understand that it is pos- 
 sible to live anywhere else, and whenever the 
 place changes hands, he just stays. He is very 
 good to help about the place, Mr. Seaton says,
 
 30 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 but he will not leave it for any purpose what- 
 ever." 
 
 " Dear me ! What a strange whim. Have 
 you any idea how he came by it ?" 
 
 " Mr. Seaton said that he had been badly 
 frightened once, when the ranch belonged to 
 his father, from whom Mr. Seaton had obtained 
 it, and since then he has stayed close by the 
 ranch." 
 
 " No doubt but that he has undergone some 
 shocking experience. My nephew said never 
 mind, I have no wish to discourage you, but 
 what a comfort it must be to you all to reflect 
 that your dear mother is spared the affliction of 
 this removal. Give my regards to your aunt ; 
 I feel for her as a sister might." 
 
 " I wonder why some people always say the 
 wrong things!" I thought, bitterly, while our 
 visitor arose and made a stately step toward the 
 door. Then her eye fell upon the pile of can- 
 vases in the corner, and she stopped to look at 
 them. 
 
 " Pictures ! Ah, yes ; I paint a little myself,
 
 FAREWELL TO ELMWOOD 31 
 
 as perhaps you have heard. Oh, yes ; yes in- 
 deed. Most expressive!" she remarked, as 
 Florence, turning the canvases around, dis- 
 played one after another. Mrs. Elliot had a 
 word of criticism or of commendation for each, 
 until, at last, Florence showed one that I knew 
 to be a particular favorite of her own. It was a 
 copy of an old engraving, called "Autumn 
 Memories," and showed a torn straw hat lying 
 half tilted on its side in the long grass of an 
 orchard fence corner. From out its crown 
 peeped a pile of rosy-cheeked apples, two or 
 three of which had fallen on the grass beside it. 
 In the dim distance was a vanishing view of an 
 irate farmer with a club, chasing an active small 
 boy who was making such good time that he 
 appeared in no possible danger of capture. 
 
 Mrs. Elliot put up her glass, the better to 
 study this work of art. "Ah !" she exclaimed, 
 after a careful inspection. " Pumpkins ! Very 
 well done, very well indeed ! How it reminds 
 me of Thanksgiving days and the dear New 
 England cornfields ! No doubt you have read
 
 32 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 those beautiful lines Cooper's I believe in 
 which he so feelingly refers to the time ' When 
 the frost is on the pumpkin, and the corn is in 
 the shock.' Oh, a taste for art, and the ability 
 to interpret it, is a wonderful gift. I trust that 
 you will continue to improve your gift in your 
 new home, Miss Florence. Vulgar associations 
 and the companionship of cowboys need not 
 tarnish that." She went on in the same strain 
 for awhile, seeming to fancy that we were going 
 out West chiefly for the purpose of sitting on 
 the mountain peaks and looking down on the 
 rest of the world. Then she made her stately 
 adieus and swept out of the house and out of our 
 lives. Indeed, her call would not have been 
 worth the trouble of chronicling but for its 
 effect on Florence. Scarcely had the door 
 closed upon her when Florence jerked that un- 
 fortunate copy of " Autumn Memories " out of 
 the corner and sent it spinning across the room. 
 "Ah, indeed ! Pumpkins," she muttered vi- 
 ciously. " Very well done, v e ry well done, 
 indeed !" I knew her well enough to understand
 
 FAREWELL TO ELMWOOD 33 
 
 that the picture was forever disgraced in her 
 eyes, but I could not help protesting. 
 
 " Don't, Flossie ; Mrs. Elliot is always mak- 
 ing blunders ; you know that. Don't you recol- 
 lect that time when she was introduced to poor 
 Mrs. Leland, who is so dreadfully disfigured 
 with small-pox, and who is so sensitive about it ? 
 She told her the first thing that some people 
 would look upon such a face as hers as some- 
 thing repulsive, but that she had no such feel- 
 ings. She looked beyond the hideous mask to 
 the soul that it covered. As long as the soul 
 was all right, what mattered it about the mask ! 
 And Mrs. Leland cried herself sick thinking 
 that that was the impression she must always 
 make on strangers. And you remember when 
 she saw that painting of Mrs. Weston's done 
 when she was a girl she said she wouldn't have 
 believed it possible that it could be her, and 
 then she sighed, and added, 'Oh, well, being 
 married and raising children will spoil any 
 one's good looks.' And you remember the time 
 when " 
 3
 
 34 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 " That's enough," laughed Florence, though 
 there were tears in her eyes. " Mrs. Elliot 
 hasn't made a blunder this time ; she has taught 
 me what not to take ; the pictures are all daubs ; 
 nothing less. They are as much of a failure 
 as my music, and what the organ was shipped 
 for I don't know ; everything that I undertake 
 is a failure." She looked gloomily at the pile of 
 canvases, then pushed them contemptuously 
 with her foot, and turning away said, " You 
 may pick out any that you choose, Elsie, for, I 
 dare say, you are just silly enough to think 
 them fine because I did them." They were fine, 
 and as she went out I called Aunt Matilda, who 
 had got the better of her headache and had 
 come down stairs on Mrs. Elliot's departure. 
 With her help we packed them all. 
 
 Florence has genius ; she does so quickly, so 
 well, things that my unskillful hands and slower 
 intellect must achieve if they are achieved at 
 all by patient drudgery. There is this differ- 
 ence between us, however. When I have mas- 
 tered anything it stays by me, it continues to
 
 FAREWELL TO ELMWOOD 35 
 
 be a pleasure, but the very ease with which 
 Florence does a thing seems to cause her to 
 undervalue it. She has such a lovely voice and 
 so much natural talent as a musician, but is so 
 impatient of training and practice that Profes- 
 sor Endicott himself advised her to give up 
 music if she could not bring herself to do more 
 conscientious work. She couldn't, and she gave 
 it up ; but I don't believe she would have done 
 so if she had fully understood what a blow her 
 decision was giving to our family pride. And 
 then her painting ! She has such an eye for 
 color effects, such skill in shading! Father 
 went to see an artist who would only give les- 
 sons to the most promising pupils. After look- 
 ing at some of Florence's amateur work he said 
 that he should be proud to number her in his 
 class. But she had a difficulty with him almost 
 at once. He made it a point that she must begin 
 at the very foot of the ladder, the very a, b, c of 
 art, as she said, when she had already copied 
 two or three landscapes so well ! She could not 
 give in to his views, and he would not give in
 
 36 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 to hers, so the lessons were soon given up, but 
 she kept on with her painting in a desultory 
 way because she is so fond of it. But she re- 
 quired a good deal of well, perhaps if it were 
 any one but Florence I might call it flattery ; 
 still I don't know that that is any great fault. 
 There are lots of people just like her; they 
 make good students if only they have enough 
 encouragement. 
 
 The dray that was to carry the few remaining 
 fragments of our household upheaval to the rail- 
 way station came not long after we had finished 
 packing the pictures, and, as the distance was 
 short, we decided to walk down. It turned out 
 to be a kind of farewell ovation. 
 
 The townspeople, old acquaintances and life- 
 long friends, were out in force. Father and 
 Aunt Matilda walked on ahead, shaking hands 
 and replying cheerily to the good wishes show- 
 ered upon them. Aunt Matilda looked white 
 and tired, and when I saw father's face I was 
 thankful that the ordeal must necessarily be a 
 brief one, yet even after we were all seated in
 
 FAREWELL TO ELMWOOD 37 
 
 the car it was not quite over with. Aunt Ma- 
 tilda was sitting beside an open window, smiling 
 bravely to the last, when a great bouquet of 
 field lilies was thrust into view, and a shrill, 
 small voice piped, " Ketch 'em, Miss Stanley ; 
 they're for you." Aunt Matilda put out her head. 
 There was that wretched little Jim Pearson, who 
 so many people insisted should be sent to the 
 Reform School ; his freckled face was red 
 and streaming with perspiration, his clothing 
 splashed with swamp mud, and he held up the 
 flowers in both hands for aunt to reach. 
 "Ketch 'em," he panted, "I most didn't git 
 here in time." The cars were beginning to 
 move. Aunt Matilda took the flowers ; she 
 looked down into the gray eyes upraised to meet 
 her own. " God bless and care for you, little 
 Jim," she said, huskily. " Same to you, ma'am," 
 piped Jim, as the cars slipped past the waiting 
 groups, past the familiar stream, past the familiar 
 fields, and then Aunt Matilda sank back into 
 her seat, covered her face with her hands and 
 cried. Jim was a reprobate, but she had always
 
 38 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 believed in him. She had on one occasion even 
 taken his part, and his word, against that of a 
 well-dressed boy when it came to a question of 
 veracity between them. It happened accident- 
 ally, I'm sure, that Jim was telling the truth, 
 but no one save Aunt Matilda could have 
 been convinced of it. Aunt laid the lilies on 
 the seat opposite her, beside Vevie. As there 
 were none to be had nearer than Weston's 
 swamp-field, three miles from town, Jim must 
 have run there to get these. After a farewell 
 glance at the receding village, Vevie turned her 
 eyes contemplatively upon the blossoms. 
 
 " I s'pose God was thinking of Jim Pearson 
 when He said ' Suffer little children to come unto 
 me/ " she presently remarked, with grave 
 thoughtfuluess, " 'cause he's awful little for his 
 size, and so dirty that nobody but God and 
 Aunt Matilda would want him around."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 ACROSS THE PLAINS IN A PRAIRIE SCHOONER 
 
 THREE days and nights of continuous travel 
 took us to Carston, a rough, straggling frontier 
 village, but of some importance on account of it 
 being the outfitting point for miners and ranch- 
 men going to the mountain valleys. As the 
 train, late in the afternoon, rolled up to the bare 
 platform a score or more of men in garb that 
 we already knew to be distinctly Western, lined 
 up along its edge and waited for the train to 
 come to a standstill. 
 
 "I wonder if it's a hold-up?" whispered 
 Florence, glancing nervously along the pictur- 
 esque line. 
 
 " It's more likely to be a welcome," returned 
 father, smiling. " There, do you see that small, 
 bustling, stand -out -of- my -way -looking man 
 next the tall cowboy in a white hat? Unless 
 I miss my guess, that individual is on the 
 
 39
 
 40 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 lookout for us, and answers to the name of 
 Seaton." 
 
 Father's guess was shown, as we left the car 
 and reached the platform, to be right in every 
 particular. Mr. Seaton greeted us cordially, 
 piloted us to a hotel, and left us to our own de- 
 vices for the remainder of the evening, but he 
 warned us that he would be on hand at an early 
 hour the next morning, and that if we " looked 
 alive " we might get started for San Coulee that 
 day. My impression is that we looked very 
 much alive, but, nevertheless, there were so 
 many purchases to be made that we did not get 
 under way for the valley until nearly noon of 
 the second day. Then we might have been seen 
 by any interested observer starting out on the 
 last stage of our journey to our future home. 
 
 Under Mr. Seaton's direction and selection 
 father had bought four of the tough little native 
 horses, all of them well broken to wagon or sad- 
 dle. He had rather fancied a span of tall 
 American horses that were brought to the hotel 
 for our inspection, but Mr. Seaton so decidedly
 
 ACROSS THE PLAINS 41 
 
 negatived the idea of purchasing them that 
 father yielded to his judgment, and it is but fair 
 to say that in the matter of selecting our outfit 
 and stock, we afterward saw good reason to con- 
 gratulate ourselves that his skill and experience 
 had been at our service. Our four horses were 
 hitched to the serviceable wagon that father 
 bought. Into it were piled our trunks, the house- 
 hold goods that we found already awaiting our 
 arrival, three side-saddles, a man's saddle, the 
 organ, some bedding and mattresses a big load. 
 Away we drove, following in the wake of Mr. 
 Seaton, who had taken aboard his own lighter 
 conveyance some of our household goods. 
 
 The weather it was about the middle of May 
 was delightful. It was well that it was, for 
 we were inexperienced drivers, and I have my 
 doubts as to our ability to have gotten through 
 at all but for the fact that Mr. Seaton's team 
 took the lead, and about all we had to do was to 
 follow. Father was, ostensibly, our driver, but 
 I sat beside him, ready at any time to give him 
 the full benefit of my inexperience, and Aunt
 
 42 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 Matilda and Florence from their seats in the 
 back of the wagon bestowed upon us both an 
 amount of advice that would have been disas- 
 trous enough had either of us made any attempt 
 to follow it. Our horses were small, but the 
 strength of the little creatures was prodigious. 
 They trotted off blithely with the heavy load 
 that seemed so cruelly big for them, so that we 
 had no trouble in keeping up with Mr. Seaton, 
 who, leaving his own well-trained team to walk 
 on alone, would occasionally come back to our 
 wagon and give us what he designated as 
 " pointers " on the management of a broncho 
 quartette. We were traveling straight toward 
 the low mountain range that loomed up in 
 the northwest with hourly increasing distinct- 
 ness and majesty. The road stretched over the 
 plains in a long white ribbon, until long before 
 reaching the base of those far mountains its 
 converging lines met, becoming an indistinct, 
 misty blur on the verge of a horizon that never 
 before had seemed so distant. 
 
 At the close of the first day out we camped
 
 ACE08S THE PLAINS 43 
 
 beside the road, where a tiny stream gave an 
 economical supply of water, but those moun- 
 tains, save that they were constantly growing 
 in impressiveness, were as far off, as unchanged 
 in appearance, as on the hour that our eyes 
 first rested upon them. But before noon of 
 the second day out, the mountains began to 
 proclaim their individuality. Forests of ever- 
 greens rose rank on rank, or scattering out 
 toward the mountain tops in long, regular 
 lines, seemingly advanced up and beyond the 
 crests, giving the weird effect of columns of 
 marching soldiery disappearing into an un- 
 known land. Colonies of prairie dogs greeted 
 us with shrill yapping as our wagons rolled by, 
 or went scampering out of sight with a disdain- 
 ful flirt of their stubby little tails whenever we 
 halted the team to get a better view of them. 
 A dingy yellow brown coyote thrust his alert 
 head and sharp-pointed ears out from a hole in 
 the bank of an arroyo over which we had just 
 passed by means of a very uncertain bridge, and 
 barked derisively when we stopped to study
 
 44 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 him. He disdained to retreat to his hole, and 
 slunk around in the rear of our wagon, crossed 
 the road, made a swift detour, and coming out 
 ahead, took his position on the top of a little 
 hillock. From that coign of vantage he ap- 
 peared to be, in his turn, studying us. I doubt 
 if the study inspired him with much respect, 
 for his derisive bark presently changed to a 
 note so much like mocking laughter that Calif, 
 who had ignored the prairie dogs, and had re- 
 garded the antics of the wolf with stately indif- 
 ference, could stand it no longer. Wrenching 
 himself free from Vevie's detaining hand he 
 bounded from the wagon like a flash, and took 
 after the wolf, which, discovering the greyhound 
 for the first time, gave a howl of dismay and 
 turning tail, fled with as little apparent effort, 
 and as lightly, as though blown by the wind. 
 Calif's blood was up. He kept on after the 
 Ishmaelite of the plains at a pace that would 
 soon have overtaken him had he not suddenly 
 and mysteriously disappeared. 
 
 " He's taken back to the arroyo ; that's the
 
 ACROSS THE PLAINS 45 
 
 last we'll see of him," remarked Mr. Seaton, 
 who, like father, had halted to watch the chase. 
 " That was a purty run," he continued approv- 
 ingly. " Them long-legged greyhounds is 
 about the swiftest things on earth, I reckon, 
 but yours is soft." 
 
 Vevie, whose face was white with apprehension 
 for her pet's safety, could not endure what she 
 took to be an aspersion of his character. " Calif 
 isn't any more softer than you are, Mr. Seaton," 
 she flashed out. " He knows just as much as 
 anybody, don't he, Aunt Matilda ?" but without 
 waiting for aunt's comforting corroboration, she 
 covered her face with her hands and sobbed. 
 " He's lost, now, I know he is. He can never 
 find his way back to us." 
 
 " Then this is his very handsome white ghost 
 that I see trotting toward us, little daughter," 
 said father, smiling ; and, as she scrambled up 
 to take a look in the direction indicated, Mr. 
 Seaton explained : 
 
 " I wasn't alludin' to his intellec', which I 
 make no doubt is strong- enough for all the uses
 
 46 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 he'll ever be called on to put it to. I just meant 
 that he wasn't in practice for runnin'. But 
 speakin' of clogs, that dog I sold you with the 
 flock is the best one and the smartest that ever 
 I saw. Hated to part with him, I did, though 
 I've no use for him unless I keep sheep. Tears 
 like Felix couldn't live without he had a flock 
 of sheep to tend to." 
 
 " He ought to be a good dog, considering the 
 price we paid for him," Aunt Matilda could not 
 forbear saying. The price of the collie had 
 seemed to her Mr. Beaton's one outrageous de- 
 mand ; indeed, she had said that that gentleman 
 probably wished to make up on the sale of the 
 dog what he lost by the low price of the sheep. 
 
 Mr. Seaton knew his own business. He 
 laughed: "Miss Stanley, I sold you that dog for 
 one hundred dollars ; sounds like a big price, I 
 know, when you can git dogs 'most anywhere for 
 the trouble of totin' 'em home. But them dogs 
 ain't Felix, and say, if you think at the end of 
 the year, when you've had him long enough to 
 git acquainted with him, that a hundred dollars
 
 ACROSS THE PLAINS 47 
 
 was too much to give for him, I'll take him off 
 your hands at that very figure ; I will so." 
 
 " That sounds reasonable," Aunt Matilda 
 admitted, and from that moment I never heard 
 the collie spoken of as an extravagant purchase. 
 As we neared the mountains we saw herds and 
 herds of cattle on the plains, but no sheep, which 
 seemed to me so odd that I spoke of it to father, 
 who, at our next halt, passed the observation 
 along to Mr. Seaton. "Lots of cattle but no 
 sheep !" exclaimed our mentor, glancing toward 
 the dun herds with an air of surprise. " Does 
 seem to be so just here, don't it?" and then he 
 changed the subject. 
 
 As we broke camp and took the road on the 
 morning of our third day out, we seemed to be 
 driving straight into a high triangular peak, 
 which Mr. Seaton said guarded the entrance to 
 San Coulee valley. Furthermore he informed 
 us that the long black rents in the mountain 
 side were wild, rocky cafions, the sources of 
 streams and the chosen home of the larger and 
 fiercer kinds of game.
 
 48 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 " Do cowboys live there, too," asked Vevie 
 with interest. The child seemed somehow to 
 have imbibed Mrs. Elliot's idea of the nature 
 and attributes of a cowboy. 
 
 " Well, they ain't a livin' in the caflons very 
 much, just now," returned our guide dryly, " I 
 re'clect heariu' that Johnny and his father 
 dwelt amongst the rocks up in Coulee cafion for 
 quite a spell once, but I don't reckon you'll ever 
 be called on to take to the cations." Ambig- 
 uous words ! Full of sinister meaning, had we 
 but known it. Johnny was the cowboy who had 
 been, as Florence told Mrs. Elliot, thrown in 
 with the ranch. 
 
 On this last morning Mr. Beaton suggested 
 that, as his load was much lighter than ours, he 
 should drive on ahead and make such prepa- 
 ration as he could at the ranch house, for our 
 comfort when we arrived. " But," objected father, 
 " Johnny, as you call him, knows that we are 
 likely to be there to-day ; won't he do all that is 
 needful ?" 
 
 " Johnny is a good feller, but he needs to be
 
 ACROSS THE PLAINS 49 
 
 directed; he'll do anything on earth that he's 
 told to do save and except leavin' the ranch 
 but he needs to be told. I ain't sure that he'd 
 das't to set down and eat a meal o' vittles unless 
 he was told that he might." 
 
 " Very well," assented father, who did not 
 fancy the arrangement, "just as you say, Mr. 
 Seaton, we can certainly follow along after you." 
 
 " Not too long after me, either," Mr. Seaton 
 warned him, with a weather-wise glance at the 
 sky. " It's thickening up ; that bank of clouds 
 over on the Wind River range ain't hangin' 
 'round there for nothin'. I'm lookin' for a 
 mighty wet spell of weather before night ; storms, 
 in this country, and at this time o' year, come up 
 sudden and do business whilst they are up ; so 
 don't let the grass grow under your feet, but 
 keep the bronchos humpin'." He drove away 
 at such a pace that his entire outfit was a van- 
 ishing speck within an hour, and within two 
 hours was indistinguishable from the clumps of 
 Spanish bayonet or yucca plants that strewed 
 the plains for miles ahead. 
 4
 
 50 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 " I don't see just why Seaton was so bent on 
 leaving us," father said at last, after some miles 
 of silent reflection ; " that excuse of his that he 
 wished to make preparation for our reception 
 was trivial, in view of the fact that the house is 
 already furnished and there is a man on hand 
 who certainly will know enough to unharness 
 and care for horses, whatever else he doesn't 
 know." 
 
 " Don't worry, Hugh, we'll get through all 
 right." 
 
 " I'm not doubting that, Matilda, and, after 
 all, Seaton has been very kind ; I ought not to 
 grumble." 
 
 None of us suspected his real reason, which, 
 months afterward we had learned enough to 
 believe, was because he did not care to be seen 
 driving into San Coulee valley with the owner 
 of a sheep ranch. The firm, gravelly soil made 
 an ideal road-bed, and Florence, who had sold 
 her bicycle, began to regret that she had not 
 kept it. 
 
 " It looks as if all one would have to do
 
 ACROSS THE PLAINS 51 
 
 would be just to get on to the wheel and coast 
 down to those mountains," she remarked on 
 that last afternoon as the triangular peak, now 
 close at hand, rose before us in quiet majesty. 
 Father smiled as he said : 
 
 " You'd find it hard coasting here, Flossie ; 
 this is up." 
 
 Florence had, by this time, graduated from 
 the seat on the flour sack which had satisfied 
 her first humble aspirations, to one on the 
 hearth of our new kitchen stove, and leaning 
 forward the better to study the angle of the 
 road. She announced at last : 
 
 " It is up. See how the horses are pulling 
 on the traces ; it's up ; but it looks down." 
 
 "A common illusion, I am told, when one 
 nears the mountains," father said. " What I'm 
 afraid of is that we'll receive more practical 
 proof that it's up than we care for ; if you'll 
 notice, the clouds have crept over from that 
 further range and are rolling down upon us fast. 
 See ! our sentinel peak is half obscured, and I'm" 
 pretty sure I heard thunder."
 
 52 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 " I heard it," Aunt Matilda confessed, " but 
 I daresay it's only a passing shower." 
 
 " I hope so ; we cannot be many miles from 
 the mouth of the valley now. I would hate 
 to stop for a shower so near our journey's 
 end." 
 
 "So near to the promised land," remarked 
 Florence, stretching her arms upward with a 
 long yawn, and Vevie struck lightly into the 
 old Methodist hymn that the words called up : 
 
 " I have a crown in the promised land, 
 
 My Father calls me, I must go, 
 To wear it in the promised land." 
 
 " You've got a crown here," father informed 
 her, laying his hand for a moment on the 
 child's shining hair, " be content with that." 
 
 Vevie has the most wonderful hair ; not 
 yellow, like Florence's, nor brown, like mine, 
 but a shimmering, flaxen, misty mass, like noth- 
 ing so much as moonlight on still water ; like a 
 trailing white wreath of glory. That wonderful 
 abundant fair hair, with the thoughtful, spirit-
 
 ACROSS THE PLAINS 53 
 
 uelle face and the deep unchildish eyes often 
 made me pause and look at her involuntarily. 
 It seemed, with that white, ethereal presence 
 that there should be a rustle of wings. 
 
 The child shook her head, smiling faintly at 
 father's words, but the song ceased, and she fell 
 to watching the advancing, descending clouds 
 with an expression of rapt interest. 
 
 The black wall advanced and drooped rapidly ; 
 if we had known then as much of the danger 
 from waterspouts in these wild mountains in 
 storms as we afterward learned we should have 
 stopped at once and made preparations to meet 
 the oncoming deluge of wind and rain ; but, igno- 
 rant of the possibilities of danger for us in that ad- 
 vancing black wall with its sullen roll of thunder 
 and quivering flashes of light, we urged the tired 
 ponies on the faster and pressed forward into the 
 clouds until we found ourselves enveloped in a 
 hissing, blinding torrent of rain. Rain? It 
 was water, driven in a solid sheet before a fierce 
 wind, that in an instant caught the white canvas 
 top of our prairie schooner, and, swelling it out
 
 54 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 to balloon-like dimensions, made the stout oak 
 wagon bows creak and groan as the struggling 
 canvas pulled upon them. For a moment 
 there seemed imminent danger of the wagon 
 overturning; then the frightened horses, re- 
 fusing to face the storm, whirled short around, 
 and in doing so righted the wagon, but in 
 rescuing it from the danger of being capsized 
 by the wind they cramped it dangerously on 
 their own account. Father and I, both tugging 
 frantically at the reins, succeeded in getting 
 them partly back to place, but a wilder gust of 
 wind just then tore one end of the canvas cover 
 loose and frightened Chris, as we had named the 
 yellow broncho. In a delirium of excitement 
 he began to buck, and the rest of the team were 
 fast becoming unmanageable, inspired, I sup- 
 pose, by the yellow broncho's example. Father 
 sprang out, regardless of the rain and of Aunt 
 Matilda's appeals for him to put on his mackin- 
 tosh, and made his way to the heads of the 
 leaders, where I instantly joined him. Between 
 us, by much pulling and coaxing we quieted
 
 ACROSS THE PLAINS 55 
 
 the horses and succeeded in getting them around 
 with their backs to the storm. Then, wet and 
 shivering we crept into the wagon again, pulled 
 off our drenched outer garments and put on 
 those that Aunt Matilda had got in readiness 
 for us. We sat there, waiting in awed silence 
 for fully an hour, while the storm raged around 
 us. It was our first, never-to-be-forgotten ex- 
 perience with a mountain storm. The peals of 
 thunder were terrific; the echoing and re- 
 echoing reverberations rolled away and away 
 among the mountain peaks until at last the 
 sound seemed to roll out of hearing over the 
 edge of the universe. 
 
 We were very thankful for dry quarters and 
 at the end of something over an hour the storm, 
 as far as active manifestations were concerned, 
 ceased almost as suddenly as it began. The 
 trailing skirts of the black cloud swept over us ; 
 there was a sudden, delicious lighting up of the 
 drenched landscape, and the setting sun came 
 out for one farewell glance before leaving his 
 wild Western principality to darkness and night.
 
 56 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 But, although now less than eight miles from 
 the cottage where rest and welcome awaited us, 
 our adventures were by no means over ; indeed, 
 the latter part of that last half day held for us 
 more hair-breadth escapes by land and water 
 than all the rest of our journey put together.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 A PERILOUS RIDE 
 
 WE turned the team around and started for- 
 ward the moment the last vestige of that black 
 skirt of clouds swept over us, but as we advanced 
 we saw with a kind of helpless concern that the 
 horses were wading in water that was constantly 
 growing deeper until the road-bed seemed the 
 bed of a stream through which we were making 
 a perilous passage. The mountain before us 
 had served as a watershed for a veritable cloud- 
 burst. 
 
 The water swept down its sides in constantly 
 increasing volume and with augmenting force. 
 " I've heard of such a thing as swimming on dry 
 land," father said, eying the moist prospect ap- 
 prehensively, " but I never thought that I should 
 care to try it." Then, looking at Florence, he 
 asked : " Does the road to the mountain lead up 
 or down ?" 
 
 57
 
 58 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 " The water leads down," she returned 
 promptly. 
 
 " You'll see it turn directly," he said, " and 
 then we'll sail into the valley on the current ; 
 just wait until we round the shoulder of this 
 giant and you'll see." "This giant" was the 
 triangular peak that guarded the entrance to the 
 valley. " The road from the mountain into the 
 valley makes a fall of something over a thousand 
 feet in less than a half-mile," father continued, 
 and at that moment we rounded the first curve 
 and caught a passing, beautiful glimpse of a still 
 green valley, far beneath. We girls uttered in- 
 voluntary exclamations of delight, but it was no 
 time for sight-seeing, the exigencies of the road 
 demanded our undivided and not very capable 
 attention. The roadway was cut along the side 
 of the mountain, and, as we swung around the 
 first curve, the volume of- water turned with us 
 and went roaring down the path ahead. Sud- 
 denly, above the rush of water, a sharp whistle 
 sounded, twice and thrice repeated. It came 
 from a bit of the road that we could not see,
 
 A PERILOUS RIDE 59 
 
 around the mountain shoulder, and father 
 stopped the team, saying, " I wonder what that 
 means, some kind of a signal, I'm sure." We 
 all listened anxiously while we waited, in no 
 little danger, as it seemed, of being washed down 
 by the increasing torrent into the valley that 
 shone so bright below us. Then the whistle 
 was shrilly repeated ; this time father echoed it ; 
 another silence, then a big masculine voice 
 shouted, " Well, why don't you come on then ; 
 I can't hold my team here all day." 
 
 Father started up our horses remarking, in a 
 somewhat crestfallen tone, " I ought to have 
 thought of that. This road is cut, as you see, 
 along the side of the mountain and there are 
 probably niches scooped out at intervals for the 
 convenience of passing wagons ; as we are going 
 down we have the right of way." We were now 
 so close to the niche in question that his ex- 
 planation was unnecessary. Rounding the 
 curve we came upon a man who was holding a 
 yoke of oxen against the side of a too shallow 
 niche by literally pressing them, broadside,
 
 60 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 up close to the rocky wall by main strength, 
 while the water poured from the overhanging 
 rock above full upon his head and shoulders and 
 the water below ran in a swift muddy current 
 reaching well up on his boot legs. It turned 
 out to be the worst point on the road at which 
 to meet at outgoing team. Luckily the man 
 had no wagon ; if he had had one I doubt if we 
 could have passed him. As it was our frisky 
 horses, true to their usual habits of investiga- 
 tion, pricked up their ears at the strange specta- 
 cle of cattle bearing a yoke and, with dilating 
 eyes and nostrils, evinced an intention to back. 
 To back up-hill was not feasible, and the wagon 
 began slowly to slew around. 
 
 "Say," shouted our new acquaintance from 
 out his impromptu shower bath, " you want to 
 look out ! Water's softened the road until it's 
 jest mush on the edge ; if your team backs off 
 there they won't never back off nowhere else." 
 
 Father drew the reins with all his feeble 
 strength while I lashed the wheelers frantically. 
 Instead of going on the yellow broncho began to
 
 ONE WHEEL HAD SLIPPED OVER THAT AWFUL VERGE 
 (Page 61.)
 
 A PERILOUS RIDE 61 
 
 rear. A stifled cry from Florence told us that 
 one wheel had slipped over that awful verge. 
 Without a word the man with the oxen aban- 
 doned them to their own devices and sprang for 
 Chris' head, pulled fiercely on his bit and 
 brought him to place with a sharp word of com- 
 mand ; then, as the horses sprang forward he 
 stood aside for them to pass, giving to each a 
 few impartial cuts with his heavy whip and so 
 exciting them to speed. 
 
 " Don't stop for anything I" he shouted, as we 
 swept past. " If you meet any one else drive 
 through 'em. The river bridge was trembling 
 when I come up ; it'll be gone before you git 
 there if you don't hurry." 
 
 " I wonder what he means ?" queried Aunt 
 Matilda anxiously. 
 
 " I'm afraid that he means just what he says," 
 returned father whose face was pale with ap- 
 prehension, as well it might be, for the horses 
 were now going at a terrific rate, the heavy 
 wagon swaying and lurching behind them, 
 threatening at every instant to overturn or be
 
 62 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 hurled bodily from the narrow track into the 
 gulf below. Our tugging at the lines had no 
 more effect in checking the flying horses than if 
 they were held with wisps of straw. A backward 
 glance showed me Aunt Matilda and Florence 
 clinging with colorless lips to whatever they 
 could lay hands upon, but making no outcry, 
 while Vevie, with an arm around Calif 's neck, 
 gazed, wide-eyed, into the depths beneath us, 
 apparently unconscious of the danger in our 
 terrible descent. 
 
 The wagon had gained such an impetus that 
 I do not suppose it would have been possible 
 for the team to check it. On, on, we went, as 
 helpless to stay our progress as some gigantic 
 missile hurled from a catapult. To this day I 
 shudder when I recall the peril of that terri- 
 ble descent, and yet the danger incurred by 
 a slower, more cautious progress would have 
 been nearly as great, only we did not then 
 know it. 
 
 Down the mountain we thundered, throwing 
 mud and water in all directions ; down, until
 
 A PERILOUS RIDE 63 
 
 by a merciful providence we reached the slight 
 stretch of rising ground fronting the approach 
 to the bridge over the swollen, turbid river. A 
 swift brown stream, the overflow from the river 
 channel, ran across this approach ; into and over 
 it on to the bridge, we thundered with scarcely 
 slackening speed ; through the like overflow on 
 the farther side and so upon a stretch of muddy 
 road where the blown horses presently came 
 down to a walk, and then Vevie's calm voice 
 broke the silence. " Father, why don't you put 
 your foot on the iron thing that Mr. Seaton 
 showed us, and make it bite the wheels ?" 
 Neither of us had before thought of the brakes 
 with their convenient rod running within easy 
 reach of the driver's foot. We had not had 
 occasion to use the brakes in crossing the 
 plains, and as the rod had a tendency to fall 
 forward when the wagon was going down-hill, 
 and as we had an equal tendency to forget to 
 remove it when going up-hill, father had com- 
 promised matters by fastening it securely back 
 with a chain and then forgetting all about it.
 
 61 THE GIKL RANCHERS 
 
 Of course our friend of the ox-team, when he 
 started our horses up so briskly, supposed, as he 
 afterward told us, that our brakes were ready 
 for use. An experienced freighter would as 
 soon think of managing his team without lines 
 as of attempting the descent of a mountain 
 without brakes ; that, however, was not only 
 what we attempted, but what we did, and in 
 safety. 
 
 Father and I sitting on the front seat, were 
 as wet as if we had been in the river. He 
 stopped the horses and, wiping the mud and 
 water from his face with his coat sleeve, glanced 
 back at Aunt Matilda, remarking, " That was a 
 narrow escape, Mattie." 
 
 " E-ather," assented Aunt Matilda, who was 
 evidently indisposed to talk about it, but Vevie 
 said gravely, " I think we corned down too soon, 
 papa ; I would like to ride after oxens better 
 when we go down-hill." 
 
 " It was the fault of the driver, and not the 
 horses, that we came down the mountain like 
 a cannon ball let loose, little daughter," lie
 
 A PERILOUS RIDE 65 
 
 returned, gathering up the lines ; then he said, 
 looking over his shoulder for Florence who had 
 not yet spoken, " Are you all right, Flossie ?" 
 
 There was no reply, and Aunt Matilda, turn- 
 ing her head, uttered a wild cry, " Hugh, stop ! 
 stop ! she's gone ; she has been thrown out ! 
 Oh, Florence ! Florence !" Such an outburst 
 from self-contained Aunt Matilda, who seldom 
 gave way to emotion lest she might distress 
 some one else, was nearly as startling as the in- 
 formation itself. 
 
 "Hush, Matilda," father cried, halting the 
 team, "she has probably jumped out; she could 
 not get out any other way." 
 
 "I'm sure she was thrown out, and she's 
 probably lying back in the road helpless," 
 sobbed Aunt Matilda, whose overstrained nerves 
 had given away. 
 
 " That's nonsense, Matilda ; she might, if she 
 was spry and active enough, have crawled to 
 the end of the wagon and dropped out behind. 
 That would have been a way of saving herself 
 if the wagon went over the precipice." 
 5
 
 66 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 "And Florence would like to save herself 
 always," said Vevie, seriously. 
 
 " Elsie," father continued, " go back to the 
 river and see if you can find any trace of her ; 
 I'll stay with the team and get the brake ready 
 for use, too, before we start again." This he 
 did, and we used it when necessary for the 
 remainder of our journey. 
 
 When we got out of the wagon and looked 
 back toward the river that we had but just 
 crossed, a new and terrible surprise awaited us. 
 Brief as had been the interval since our cross- 
 ing, it had been long enough to complete the 
 work of destruction. The bridge was gone ! 
 Aunt Matilda and Vevie had got out of the 
 wagon to go with me, and I do not know which 
 one of us, or if all together, gave the startled 
 cry that caused father to thrust his distressed 
 face out from the wagon cover and inquire 
 anxiously : 
 
 "What now?" 
 
 " The bridge is gone, Hugh I" 
 
 " Is it ?"
 
 A PERILOUS RIDE 67 
 
 He could say no more for a moment. I 
 think that the same thought occurred to all 
 three of the older ones, " What if she were on 
 the bridge when it went down ?" Then Aunt 
 Matilda whose courage always rose with emer- 
 gencies, prepared herself for action. 
 
 " Come, Elsie, are you coming ?" 
 
 We reached the water's edge and were stand- 
 ing staring blankly at the place where the bridge 
 had been, when, to our delight, Florence came 
 in sight on the other side, accompanied by the 
 owner of the oxen and the oxen themselves. 
 Halting at the farther bank she shouted to us, 
 but the voice of the water was so much the 
 stronger that we could not make out a word. 
 Then the man took up the explanation and hal- 
 looed in a mellow, distinct voice that seemed to 
 have the carrying power of a great bell. 
 
 " She wants to tell you that she ain't hurt a bit ; 
 she jumped out of the wagon ; I seen her ; I 
 come down here to help her acrost the river, but 
 she can't git acrost now less'en she goes up to 
 McCarthy's mill, two miles further up."
 
 68 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 Aunt Matilda put her hands to her mouth and 
 screamed across, " Oh, she can't walk so far in 
 this mud !" 
 
 " She won't have to walk," roared our friend, 
 " I'm going with her ; she can ride one of the 
 oxen ; they're broke to ride," and as if to show 
 how little cause we had for apprehension on her 
 account he pulled off his coat, spread it carefully 
 over the broad back of the nearest ox, said a 
 word or two to Florence, and then lifted her to 
 the creature's back as lightly as a feather. He 
 then turned the clumsy team around on the back 
 track, but paused once more to give us a word 
 of cheer. " I know who you be ; you're goin' 
 to Seaton's ranch ; don't you worry about the 
 little girl ; I'll fetch her along all right, but it 
 may be a little late ; oxen ain't fast," As the 
 unique steeds with their long-legged driver be- 
 side them started up the mountain road again, 
 Florence turned to wave her hand to us; she 
 was laughing. 
 
 " What did he say ?" asked father as we 
 rejoined him. " I saw what was going on,
 
 A PERILOUS RIDE 69 
 
 but I couldn't make out anything that he 
 said." 
 
 Aunt Matilda recited what had taken place 
 while Vevie, with a hand over her mouth, 
 giggled hysterically. "Flossie's going to ride 
 a ox !" she explained as Aunt Matilda concluded. 
 We who better appreciated the situation could 
 only smile faintly at the child's merriment. It 
 was certainly better under the circumstances, to 
 laugh than to cry, but I was in my heart very 
 sorry for poor, proud Florence, making her 
 entry on the scene of her future home by a 
 detour of four miles, and perched upon the back 
 of an ox at that, if she came at all. Wild visions 
 of kidnapers, of Indians, even of Mrs. Elliot's 
 wild cowboys flashed through my mind as we 
 again clambered into the wagon and started on at 
 a pace slow and difficult enough to atone for any 
 previous haste. For my part I did not care to 
 make haste since every step was taking us 
 farther and farther away from Florence, and 
 who could tell into what danger she might be 
 going. Father presently discovered that Aunt
 
 70 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 Matilda was crying quietly and set himself to 
 try to comfort her. " Florence will get around 
 all right before many hours, Mattie ; you 
 know what good fellows these mountaineers are ; 
 they'll take no end of trouble to help a neighbor, 
 and I hope our tall friend is a neighbor in fact 
 as well as sentiment. It's going to be a bright 
 moonlight night, too." 
 
 " Oh, I know there isn't any danger," re- 
 turned Aunt Matilda in a voice that plainly 
 betrayed that that was just what she had been 
 thinking of, " but I'm afraid it will be dread- 
 fully uncomfortable riding on an ox, anyway, 
 and Florence isn't used to riding." 
 
 " She will be before she gets through," father 
 responded rather grimly, " and I don't suppose 
 that riding an ox is any more uncomfortable 
 than riding a camel, and, you know, people 
 willingly cross the ocean and dislocate their 
 joints for the sake of being able to say that 
 they have bestrode a ' ship of the desert/ "
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 OUR NEW HOME 
 
 THE late summer dusk was struggling with 
 the light of the rising moon when, wet, weary, 
 and more disheartened by the manner of our 
 introduction to San Coulee than any of us 
 would have admitted at the time, we drew up 
 before the welcome door of the ranch house. 
 Lights shone in the windows, an odor as of a 
 warm meal in process of preparation was wafted 
 to our nostrils, and all at once, our world, even 
 to Florence's unended adventure, took on a more 
 cheerful aspect. Mr. Seaton came hurrying out 
 to meet us as the wagon stopped, and was pro- 
 fuse in his expressions of regret when he found 
 what a moist condition we were in. While he 
 helped us out father told him what had befallen 
 Florence. Mr. Seaton chuckled : 
 
 " That's all right, only, of course, it's a pity 
 to put the young lady to so much trouble, but 
 
 71
 
 72 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 you needn't feel a mite uneasy about her getting 
 here ; she'll be along as soon as Rome can make 
 them oxen of his git over the road. He's all 
 right ; he's one of the best fellows in the valley, 
 and I ain't gittin' no pay for sayin' that, 'cause 
 I've got a purty strong idea that he ain't over 
 'n' above fond of me." 
 
 "It was fortunate for us that he happened 
 to be on the mountain," father said. 
 
 " Yes, it was ; I saw him as he went a-past 
 here ; he said he was goin' to git a wagon out- 
 side and go down to Belmout for supplies. 
 Belmont is the town nearest us, 'round the 
 corner of that high mountain, Mount Kenneth, 
 that is ; Indian Reservation's on the other side. 
 But come in, come in ; Johnny, here, will take 
 care of the horses, and supper's all ready." He 
 led the way briskly into the house everything 
 that the man did was done with a rush, as 
 though he were always bent on making up time 
 that he had lost somewhere in his progress 
 through life. Sure enough, the table was neatly 
 set, and the bright, cozy room was full of the
 
 OUR NEW HOME 73 
 
 delicious odors of the warm meal that had 
 appealed to our nostrils already. 
 
 " Set right down," advised Mr. Seaton, hos- 
 pitably, " no use waiting until everything's cold. 
 Johnny and me we've eaten our supper already 
 so as to be ready to tend to things when you got 
 here." 
 
 " I think, perhaps, we had better wait for 
 Florence," Aunt Matilda suggested doubtfully. 
 
 " There ain't a grain o' use in doing that," 
 insisted our late guide. " You would only be 
 putting yourselves out and not helpin' her ; for, 
 I tell you, she's just as safe to git here all right 
 as if she was com in' on a special car that was 
 built a purpose for her." This was so re- 
 assuring, and we were so hungry, that we has- 
 tened to follow his advice as soon as we had 
 divested ourselves of our damp garments, while 
 he devoted himself to the task of helping Johnny 
 unload what he designated as our " plunder." 
 
 Johnny was another surprise. I, at least, 
 had somehow imbibed the notion that our at- 
 tache was a bent, timid, retiring, pale-faced boy,
 
 74 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 and I was partly right, but could not have 
 missed the mark more thoroughly as far as 
 physique went. Tall, broad shouldered, straight 
 as an arrow, with a shock of curling, light- 
 brown hair, he was as attractive to look upon as 
 some perfect statue. But, poor Johnny, there 
 it ended. There was no speculation in those 
 deep blue eyes, no emotion betrayed by the loose, 
 expressionless lips. The whole effect of his 
 personality if I may use such a term in speak- 
 ing of him, for he did not really seem to have a 
 personality was saddening, as of a misfit of 
 nature ; a child's mind in the strong body of a 
 man ; a soul too small for its environment look- 
 ing out vacantly from a man's eyes. As we be- 
 came acquainted with this helpless waif, who 
 had been " thrown in with the ranch," we grew 
 warmly attached to him. Never was a more 
 faithful, willing, obedient aid than Johnny, 
 within his limitations ; his limitations were the 
 boundaries of the lower San Coulee valley. He 
 was not timid, nor forward, but regarded us at the 
 table, as he passed back and forth through the
 
 OUR NEW HOME 75 
 
 room, with the frank, impersonal curiosity of 
 an untrained child. 
 
 Calif did not like Mr. Seaton ; he had made 
 that manifest ever since first meeting him, and 
 now, feeling, I suppose that he was at home and 
 so entitled to an expression of opinion, he was 
 not backward in expressing it. He followed the 
 object of his animosity back and forth and kept 
 growling until father took a piece of rope and 
 tied him ignominiously to the leg of the lounge. 
 Still he continued to voice unfavorable comments 
 upon the alert, little man, who was dodging 
 back and forth through the room. Vevie's 
 eyes filled with tears at her favorite's disgrace, 
 but she made no protest, except to explain 
 Calif's behavior to Mr. Seaton. Vevie displayed 
 at times a talent for truthfulness little short of 
 appalling, added to which she credited Calif 
 with a degree of intelligence possible only to 
 the illimitable credulity of childhood ; so now 
 she stopped Mr. Seaton in one of his hurried 
 dashes to say : 
 
 " Calif don't like you. It was real good in
 
 76 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 you to sell papa this little house with a fireplace 
 in it, and to frow our things into it so quick 
 you've broke Aunt Matilda's cut-glass pitcher, 
 too, that she thought so much of, but I guess 
 she won't mind but I s'pose, maybe, you've 
 done something bad some time and Calif re- 
 members it. I'll tell him you're good now, 
 anyway." 
 
 "That's right, little lady, that's right," exclaimed 
 Mr. Seaton, with undiminished cheerfulness, but 
 he did not " frow " the next articles into the room 
 with quite so much vehemence. Oddly enough 
 Calif had already signified his solemn approval 
 of Johnny, and it was Johnny, on one of his 
 trips back and forth, who called attention to 
 Vevie. "Why don't you eat?" he asked, paus- 
 ing before her and regarding her with calm in- 
 terest. For answer the child threw up her arms 
 and burst into a wild fit of sobbing. Father set 
 down the cup that he was just raising to his lips 
 and hurried to her side. " Vevie, child, what 
 is the matter ?" he cried, anxiously. " What 
 are you crying about ?" He knelt on the floor
 
 OUR NEW HOME 77 
 
 by her side it was so strange to see Vevie 
 in tears, she who never complained and whose 
 sky was always sunny, no matter what the 
 weather. 
 
 She leaned her head on father's shoulder, her 
 silvery, flaxen hair straying over it like a shin- 
 ing mist. " Calif is hungry, too," she sobbed, 
 " and he is tied up ! He thinks nobody cares 
 for him !" 
 
 " I'll tie him here by you," father told her, 
 " then he will know better." He did so, and 
 not long afterward, supper being over, I looked 
 for Vevie and found her fast asleep under the 
 table where she and Calif had both crept, 
 her head pillowed on the greyhound's white 
 shoulder. 
 
 The wagon load of " plunder " being disposed 
 of, our friend pulled out an immense silver 
 watch and consulted its face inquiringly. 
 "Time I was getting on," he announced; "I'd 
 like first-rate to stay and see Miss Florence 
 come in ; she'll be here in a few minutes now, 
 but I've got some ways yet to go to-night."
 
 78 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 " Surely you will stay here," Aunt Matilda 
 interposed. " It's late, and you must be 
 tired." 
 
 " Not very late, and I never get tired ; the 
 horses have had a good rest whilst you was 
 comin' on, and we must be movin'." 
 
 " Are you leaving the valley soon ?" asked 
 father. 
 
 " Why, I've left it already ; that is to say, 
 the boys have driven the cattle over beyond 
 Wind River, and there's nothing left to go but 
 wife and I and a little plunder ; wife is waiting 
 for me at Wilson's, ten miles out ; I'll drive out 
 there to-night, and it'll be so much of a start 
 for to-morrow." 
 
 He made his adieus to us all ; father thanked 
 him warmly for his services in our behalf, but 
 he did not offer to pay him for coming to meet 
 us, a sad oversight, as it afterward turned out. 
 Father took his coming since he had proposed 
 it himself as an act of courtesy which it would 
 be offensive to place upon a money basis. He 
 had gained the porch when an idea seemed to
 
 OUR NEW HOME 79 
 
 strike him and he put his head in at the door 
 again. " Oh, by the way, Stanley, I don't rec'- 
 lect as we come to any agreement about hay ; I 
 knew you would want some, of course, so I took 
 the liberty of puttin' a couple o' tons in the barn 
 against your comin'." 
 
 " That was very kind and thoughtful in you," 
 father assured him. " How much does it come 
 to?" 
 
 " Thirty dollars ; hay is fifteen dollars a 
 ton." 
 
 Father could not suppress a start of surprise ; 
 hay at that price would be as expensive for us 
 as if grown on the uplands of Arcadia. 
 
 " Say, say, Mr. Seaton," interposed Johnny 
 who had been listening open-mouthed to the 
 conversation, " Seth Jones he brung that hay 
 only yis'tday ; he said he'd " 
 
 " Hark !" cried Seaton with uplifted hand, 
 " ain't them horses kickin', Johnny ?" Johnny 
 sprang up and hurried out to the barn. In his 
 absence father paid Mr. Seaton the price that he 
 suggested for the hay, and that thrifty ranch-
 
 80 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 man, pocketing the money, walked out to where 
 his team and wagon were already waiting, 
 climbed to the seat and with a final, "Good 
 night, and good luck," disappeared. It was 
 many mouths before we saw him again. The 
 sound of his wagon wheels had scarcely died 
 away when a clear whistle sounded from the 
 road in the opposite direction, and soon, in the 
 patch of moonlight beyond the gate, Florence 
 and her escort came in view. 
 
 " Here we are, safe and sound," cheerily 
 cried the person whom Mr. Seaton had desig- 
 nated as " Rome," as he rounded his team 
 up before the gate and helped Florence to 
 alight. " Hope you didn't get uneasy," he 
 continued as we crowded out on the porch to 
 meet them. " Oxen is slow, but then again, 
 they're safe." 
 
 "You'll come in and have some supper, 
 surely," Aunt Matilda cried suddenly as Rome 
 picked up his whip and made a movement as if 
 to go. 
 
 " Not to-night ; you're all tired enough with-
 
 OUR NEW HOME 81 
 
 out settin' out refreshments for stragglers to- 
 night, I reckon," and he stuck to his resolution 
 inflexibly in spite of our protests. 
 
 " I want to thank you for bringing my niece," 
 Aunt Matilda told him by way of further per- 
 suasion. The handsome giant shook his head 
 and smiled. 
 
 "Now you're jest sending me on my way 
 hot-footed ; if there's one thing I can't stand it's 
 being thanked." 
 
 " Where will you go then ?" asked Florence, 
 who was leaning against the door post, looking 
 worn out. 
 
 " I'll stop with Davis to-night ; he keeps the 
 store and post-office down here a piece but I'll 
 be comin' along back this way day after to- 
 morrow, and I'll stop then and see how you're 
 getting along." He checked himself again as 
 he was about starting to speak to Johnny, who 
 had been looking on, lingering respectfully in 
 the background. 
 
 " How's times, Johnny ?" he demanded cheer- 
 fully.
 
 82 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 " They's purty good," Johnny returned, grin- 
 ning with pleasure. 
 
 " That's right ; take good care of these folks, 
 won't you, Johnny ?" 
 
 " On the ranch ?" Johnny questioned with a 
 quick change of voice. 
 
 " Why, of course on the ranch ; what are you 
 thinking of?" 
 
 He bade us good-night again, and we went 
 with poor tired Florence into the house, intent 
 on ministering to her comfort, but the cowboy 
 who would not leave the ranch remained on the 
 porch, watching the oxen and their driver as 
 they went down the road in the moonlight. 
 When he came in some minutes later he found 
 a seat in a dark corner of the room and from 
 that unobtrusive standpoint made a startling 
 observation. 
 
 " Seaton lied to you ; he's the biggest liar in 
 Coulee ; that hay cost but seven dollars a ton ; 
 I seen him pay Seth Jones for it ; I guess he 
 was mad 'cause you didn't pay him for goin' to 
 meet you 'stead of just thankin' him ; thankin'
 
 OUR NEW HOME 83 
 
 won't buy no cattle ; he's buyin' cattle. I like 
 Koine Beaumont. I wish't he'd a bought me 
 and the ranch. Seaton says I might be turned 
 away ; but Rome, he wouldn't turn me away. 
 I most wouldn't be afraid to ride as fur as the 
 river bridge with Rome ; he ain't a coward, he 
 wouldn't let no cattle men hurt me." That was 
 a long speech for silent Johnny to make, but 
 our coming had unconsciously excited him. He 
 got up presently and went off to his bed in the 
 attic, leaving us to puzzle over his words while 
 we cared for Florence.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 WHY MR. SEATON SOLD THE RANCH 
 
 WITHIN a week we were fairly installed in 
 our new home, and ready to make the acquaint- 
 ance of our valley neighbors; but, contrary 
 to all our preconceived ideas of the welcome 
 extended to new-comers by the western people 
 they seemed to avoid us ; not only that, but on 
 the occasions when we chanced to encounter any 
 of them, as we often did in going to the store 
 or post-office, they seemed disposed to treat our 
 advances toward a more intimate acquaintance 
 with a cavalier curtness that bordered on con- 
 tempt. The settlers were all, or nearly all, 
 ignorant and primitive. Except that our lot 
 was cast among them it did not much matter 
 how they took us, but nevertheless it was any- 
 thing but pleasant to find that the feeling 
 toward us was distinctly unfriendly. Aunt 
 Matilda and we two girls felt it the more keenly 
 84
 
 WHY MR. SEATON SOLD THE RANCH 85 
 
 for the reason that we were again sorely troubled 
 about father's health. He had, as might have 
 been expected, contracted a violent cold during 
 that last exciting afternoon of our journey and, 
 unable to go out himself, he was prone to spec- 
 ulate on the possible causes of his isolation. 
 " I'm pretty sure that these folks would like us 
 if they'd give us a fair trial," he would declare 
 humorously, between spasms of coughing. But 
 they never gave us a trial ; and we were let se- 
 verely alone by nearly all save Rome Beaumont, 
 who proved himself so true a friend that I know 
 we never could have done what we did but for 
 the aid and counsel that he furnished. Johnny 
 was a great help, too, although it certainly was 
 inconvenient at times that he could not be in- 
 duced even to drive to the store or to a neighbor's 
 to do an errand. He took care of the horses 
 and was always ready to harness or saddle them 
 for our use; never by any chance for his own. 
 The horses were turned into a pasture near 
 the house, so that we were not obliged to con- 
 sider ourselves extravagant in keeping four
 
 86 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 of them, although to keep one, with hay at 
 fifteen dollars a ton, had at first appeared too 
 great a luxury for our limited means. 
 
 There was enough money still in hand to pay 
 our way until the first shearing of the sheep, 
 when we hoped to realize enough from the "clip " 
 as it was called, to make the next quarterly pay- 
 ment on the ranch and flock. Florence and I 
 fully understood just how matters stood with 
 regard to the ranch and the way in which it was 
 to be paid for, and it troubled our young heads 
 not a little. Father sometimes complained that 
 so much business worry would cause us to grow 
 old before our time, and, lamenting the failure 
 of the incombustible wood invention, said he was 
 a useless log, weighing his children down with 
 cares that did not belong to their age, but these 
 dark moods were too foreign to his sunny nature 
 to be of long duration. As for Aunt Matilda, 
 she averred that the youth or maid did not exist 
 who had ever been injured in health or spirits 
 by taking too much care for others, or for the 
 future. "Young folks are selfish," she pro-
 
 WHY MR. SEATON SOLD THE RANCH 87 
 
 claimed oracularly. "Look at the unconcern 
 with which a young girl more especially if she's 
 pretty and knows it, as they mostly do or a 
 young man, will remain idle and see careworn 
 father or mother attend to the thousand and one 
 little duties that could just as well, indeed better, 
 be laid upon younger shoulders. They do not 
 seem to realize until old age and feebleness have 
 come palpably upon them that it is possible for 
 their parents to become tired. The common 
 excuse is that youth should have its fling ; but 
 since the fling can last but a short time at the 
 best, it would be wiser to provide something else 
 while youth is passing, instead of after it has 
 passed, as is the usual way ; a little business 
 discipline will not hurt our girls, Hugh." 
 
 " A little. No, Mattie, what I am afraid of 
 is that they will get too much." 
 
 " If we do," was my mental resolution, " you 
 shall never hear of it from me." 
 
 Rome, who was working something that he 
 denominated " a prospect," somewhere up above 
 us in the mountains, was a pretty frequent
 
 88 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 visitor to the cottage from the first, and it was 
 on his advice that Florence and I began to take 
 lessons in riding almost at once. 
 
 " You've got three good saddle horses," he 
 informed us on his second visit. "I don't go 
 much on that yellow broncho, but the others are 
 good, 'specially the one that you call Luck " 
 
 Whereat, I am ashamed to say I showed my 
 ignorance of horseflesh by laughing. " Why, 
 Mr. Beaumont, he's the homeliest one of the 
 lot!" 
 
 Rome smiled wisely. " Handsome is that 
 handsome does, they used to tell me when I was 
 a boy and inclined to envy others their good 
 looks" he must have been awfully conceited 
 if he wanted to be handsomer was my secret 
 thought, while he went on : " Luck is an odd 
 name, too " 
 
 " There's luck in odd numbers, says Rory 
 O'More!" sang Florence, who was listening. 
 " He looks so different from the others that he 
 seemed an odd number, so we took Mr. O'More's 
 word for it that he should be called Luck."
 
 WHY MR. SEATON SOLD THE RANCH 89 
 
 " Well, it's a good name and you was in luck 
 to get him, because even if he is an odd number 
 you'll find that he ain't a back number like the 
 buckskin." 
 
 " How do you know ?" asked Florence with a 
 saucy smile. 
 
 " How do I know ?" Rome scratched his head. 
 " See here, Miss Florence, you've seen folks that 
 show, without ever speaking one word, that 
 there's something uncommon in 'em ; it shows 
 in their faces ; it kind of lights 'em up ; I s'pose 
 likely it's what folks mean when they speak 
 of anybody's having expression. Why, your 
 father, now, he's just that kind of a man ; and 
 Luck, he's that kind of a horse. You girls 
 want to pick out your horses and always ride 
 the same ones ; then you'll know each other. 
 The time may come when well, you better 
 learn to be good riders soon's you can. Johnny 
 can teach you all you want to know a plumb 
 sight better than a fancy riding master could. 
 I can rec'lect when there wasn't a better rider 
 in all the Coulee country than Johnny was."
 
 90 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 " Has he no name but Johnny ?" asked Flor- 
 ence, indifferently; she was not greatly inter- 
 ested in our cowboy. 
 
 " Yes ; his name's John Alton, but the whole 
 valley knows him as Johnny, now." 
 
 " How long has it been since he became as he 
 is?" I inquired, but Rome did not appear to 
 hear the question. He urged us again to lose 
 no time in learning to ride, and not long after 
 took his departure. I do not think that I am 
 at all given to suspicion, but I was positive in 
 my own mind that there was some powerful 
 reason, and one that he did not wish to disclose, 
 for wishing us to learn to ride, and, as he said, 
 lose no time in doing so. We had been nearly 
 two weeks in Sail Coulee, and, riding every day, 
 were already fairly good riders, when I found 
 out what that reason was. 
 
 Our flock of three thousand sheep we had not 
 yet seen, owing partly to father's illness and 
 partly to the fact that we did not yet feel quite 
 confidence enough in our equestrian powers to 
 visit them. The flock was in the upper San
 
 WHY MR. SEATON SOLD THE RANCH 91 
 
 Coulee valley, a small, mountain- walled basin 
 of limited area, in charge of two Mexican herders 
 and the sheep dog, Felix. Our cottage lay con- 
 veniently in Rome's way as he made his semi- 
 weekly journeys to the store. It was while on 
 his way back from the store that he stopped one 
 Saturday evening to inquire for father. As he 
 had already stopped when going down, his 
 solicitude appeared rather marked. He sat and 
 talked with father awhile and then took leave 
 of him, but on his way to the door he made a 
 slight beckoning gesture to Aunt Matilda, who, 
 being quick witted, readily understood that he 
 wished to speak with her where father could not 
 hear what was said. She nodded for me to come, 
 and making an excuse that we wished to walk 
 a little way with Mr. Beaumont, we stepped out 
 into the soft, spring night. Rome led the way 
 to the bench under the big pine, a few yards 
 from the house, and while aunt and I sat down 
 he stood with one hand upon the rough bole of 
 the tree. 
 
 " Miss Stanley," he began, " it's got to that
 
 92 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 pass that I feel jest plumb compelled to ask you 
 a few questions. I been a telling myself all 
 along that it ain't none o' my business, but I 
 guess it is. Here you be, three women folks 
 and a baby, so to speak, with a sick man on 
 your hands. Well, I don't suppose you would 
 want to worry that sick man ?" he added, inter- 
 rogatively. 
 
 " No," returned Aunt Matilda, decidedly. 
 
 " No ; I didn't suppose you would ; 'twouldn't 
 do no good and might hurt him. Besides, 
 you've got me to help you. I'm going to help 
 you, come what may." There was a thrill in 
 the man's voice, a wild energy as if he defied 
 some danger. He went on hastily, evidently 
 fearing that his earnestness might have alarmed 
 us. " Now the question I want to ask is this : 
 When Abel Seaton sold you this ranch and the 
 sheep, did he say anything, did he let on in 
 anyway, that there was like to be trouble in 
 store for you?" 
 
 "Trouble!" echoed Aunt Matilda. "No, 
 certainly not ; what trouble could there be ?"
 
 WHY MR. SEATON SOLD THE RANCH 93 
 
 " There could be and is a good deal ; and 
 an almighty mean man Seaton is to entrap a lot 
 of women and a sick man into such a hornets' 
 nest as a sheep ranch in San Coulee is now ; but 
 he wanted to sell and he ain't the man to lose a 
 good trade for want of keeping his mouth shut, 
 I'll say that for him. Well, to cut the matter 
 short, the sheep business ain't exactly pop'lar 
 in San Coulee ; it's so unpop'lar, in fact, that 
 Seaton would a pretty nigh given his flock to 
 any one that would take it a couple o' months 
 ago. Since then he has been a holding off, 
 making excuses and promising to run the stock 
 out, or that he wouldn't own a head of sheep 
 inside of thirty days if they'd only give him 
 time to turn around. They gave what he asked 
 for because it was Seaton and he's a dangerous 
 man to offend. He turned 'round by dumping 
 his stock onto you." 
 
 " I don't understand you ; whom did he 
 promise ? Why is sheep ranching so unpopu- 
 lar?" 
 
 " He promised the cattlemen ; the rustlers,
 
 94 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 who claim to run this part of the country. 
 They've sworn that they won't allow anybody 
 this side of Wyoming to keep sheep, if they can 
 help it, and I reckon they can." 
 
 " How ?" demanded Aunt Matilda with spirit. 
 
 " How ? With shotguns, with stripes, with 
 fire; sometimes with death," was the solemn 
 answer. In the pause that followed, the voice 
 of the river, less turbulent now than when we 
 had first heard it, arose in a swelling murmur 
 above the low music of the pines. In the open 
 doorway of the cottage Johnny's figure ap- 
 peared ; he was looking inquiringly in our 
 direction. " Johnny's always uneasy if every- 
 body that he's interested in isn't safe under 
 shelter when night-time comes," observed Rome, 
 folding his arms and leaning against the trunk 
 of the pine tree. " I reckon maybe this is a 
 good time to tell you how he came to be what 
 he is now. As the preachers say it will serve 
 to illustrate my text. It was five years ago, 
 come fall, that the cattlemen got on a tear 
 similar to what they're getting on now, and
 
 WHY MR. SEATON SOLD THE KANCH 95 
 
 made proclamation that there should be no 
 sheep in San Coulee. The sheep men were 
 mostly Mexicans then and easy to handle be- 
 cause they were afraid of the white men. So 
 they readily agreed to make themselves scarce ; 
 and they did, in short order. 
 
 " The leader of the anti-sheep movement 
 he'd been elected sheriff of the county for no other 
 purpose than to work out the will of the cattle- 
 men made his boast that within ten days from 
 the time that he took the oath of office there 
 wasn't but one sheep ranch left in the county ; 
 that one was the one that you have bought. It 
 belonged then to Ralph Alton, Johnny's father. 
 The leader then declared that within ten days 
 more even this one wouldn't be left. And he 
 kept his word. Alton was a determined kind of 
 man. He got his title to the lower valley from 
 the government; took it up as a homestead 
 claim. The upper valley, where your sheep 
 are now, is, as you prob'ly know, leased school 
 lands. Alton leased it to begin with and Seaton 
 has had it since. Well, the ' Regulators/ as
 
 96 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 the sheriff's posse called themselves, called on 
 Alton and told him he might have just twenty- 
 four hours in which to get out of Coulee. You 
 see he had put all he had and the labor of 
 five years into the ranch ; to leave meant finan- 
 cial ruin ; to stay, as it turned out, meant death. 
 Alton stayed ; he paid no attention to their 
 notice. 
 
 " The next day he and Johnny were up in the 
 upper valley watching the sheep as usual, when 
 a score or more of masked men suddenly dashed 
 out from the shelter of the rocks and yelling 
 and firing off their guns, charged on the sheep. 
 They brought on a wicked stampede. The 
 sheep fairly ran and piled over each other in 
 their eagerness to get away ; lots of them were 
 killed in that way. Alton stood in the natural 
 gateway that blocks the lower entrance to the 
 valley and tried to stop them, and Johnny, up 
 on the hillside with his dog, did his best to help. 
 Maybe the Regulators were angry because they 
 did that; they might a' took it as a kind of 
 defiance. Anyway, they shot Alton. Then, as
 
 WHY MR. SEATON SOLD THE RANCH 97 
 
 they stood over his father's body they ordered 
 Johnny to come to them. He came, and there 
 not two feet from the poor fellow, who would 
 have died a second time before he would have 
 seen his son hurt, they stripped Johnny and 
 beat him unmercifully. Then they made him 
 kneel down by his father's body and swear that 
 he would never again set foot outside of San 
 Coulee ranch, as his father's place was called ; 
 and he never has. He was sick for a long time 
 after that day's bad business ; he was the only 
 child ; his mother sold the ranch to Seaton, 
 thinking that new scenes and experiences would 
 maybe bring Johnny around again ; but nothing 
 short of force could get him off the ranch. The 
 doctor that Mrs. Alton consulted said that he'd 
 go raving mad if she persisted in trying to get 
 him away, so there he is ! Mrs. Alton died, 
 broken-hearted, in less than a year after they 
 killed Ralph." 
 
 " What became of the sheep ?" I asked. 
 
 " The sheep ? Oh, they were scattered to the 
 four winds ; mutton was cheap all over the 
 7
 
 98 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 country for some time after. Every one was 
 free to kill a sheep wherever he came across it ; 
 nobody'd dare lay claim to a herd of sheep 
 that the Regulators had stampeded." 
 
 " How came it that Mr. Seaton engaged in 
 the business if it is so dangerous ?" asked Aunt 
 Matilda. 
 
 " He didn't for a year or two ; but then came 
 a season or two when wool was uncommon 
 profitable, and he chanced it because the feel- 
 ing in regard to it had died down a good deal. 
 I reckon more than one of the Regulators had 
 to tussle hard with their consciences to make 
 what they had done to Johnny and his folks 
 seem right. Anyway, not much objection was 
 raised to Seaton's bringing in a flock, until 
 within the past year, when the old trouble began 
 to sizzle again." 
 
 " But why is it ? I don't understand," said 
 Aunt Matilda. 
 
 " Why ? The cattlemen want the range for 
 their cattle ; cattle raising is more profitable than 
 sheep raising."
 
 WHY MR. SEATON SOLD THE RANCH 99 
 
 " But surely, surely, there is room for both !" 
 
 " No, begging your pardon, there ain't. Cattle 
 can't live on a range that sheep have grazed 
 over ; sheep are mighty destructive to grass, they 
 will eat it clean down to the roots and kill it 
 out ; sheep can live after cattle all right, but not 
 cattle after sheep." 
 
 " But the sheep are now on ground that be- 
 longs to us," said Aunt Matilda. 
 
 " Yes ; and mighty hard on 'em it is to be 
 kept penned up in that bare little upper Coulee 
 valley. Seaton never would have allowed it so 
 long if he had not been holding 'em to sell." 
 
 " Do you mean that there is nothing for them 
 to eat in that valley ?" 
 
 " That's exactly what I mean." 
 
 " But Mr. Seaton said that the two Mexican 
 herders who have the flock in charge would see 
 that they had good grazing ground." 
 
 "Most times they would; now they are 
 afraid, so they hold them where, in case of an 
 attack, they themselves can escape among the 
 rocks."
 
 100 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 Aunt Matilda stood up. " I must think this 
 over," she said. 
 
 "It'll bear thinking over. You see, I 
 wouldn't have told you all this without good 
 reason ; I heard something at the store there's 
 some move on foot, I don't know just what but 
 I do know that I wish you hadn't bought a sheep 
 ranch in a cattle country. There's Mr. Stanley 
 calling and I must be going." 
 
 Aunt Matilda took his hand; her face was 
 very white in the moonlight. " I know you 
 will be our friend ; but I don't want you to put 
 yourself into danger on our account." 
 
 The stalwart miner held her hand closely in 
 his for a moment, looking down into her face, 
 and as he replied the very air seemed charged 
 with his earnestness. " I shall put myself into 
 death on your account if I choose." In an- 
 other moment he was gone, striding away in the 
 moonlit shadows of the trail. 
 
 " I do not believe life in San Coulee will be 
 very monotonous," said Aunt Matilda, grimly, 
 as we returned to the house.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 A CHANGE OF OPINION 
 
 IT was a good thing for us and our future 
 prospects that Aunt Matilda had always been 
 consistent in her idea that young people should 
 learn to carry their share of the burdens of life 
 in the days of their youth. If she and I had 
 been accustomed to a less heroic attitude we 
 might have been staggered by the problem pre- 
 sented by Home Beaumont's communication, 
 but to neither of us did the notion of selling off 
 the sheep appeal favorably, as we looked to 
 them for a means of paying off our indebtedness 
 to their former owner. Our courage, as is so 
 often the case, rose to the occasion. Selling the 
 sheep when their new owners would drive them 
 farther south where sheep ranching was a less 
 dangerous occupation was what Rome anx- 
 iously advised in an interview that we had with 
 
 101
 
 102 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 him a few days after he first told us of the dan- 
 ger in which we stood. 
 
 " No," Aunt Matilda told him, " I shall not 
 do that ; Elsie and I have talked it over. Try 
 to think, rather, how best we can keep them. 
 You don't understand our situation, Mr. Beau- 
 mont ; to lose them, to part with them at all, 
 would mean simply ruin for us. We have put 
 all we possessed in the world my brother and 
 I into this sheep ranch. We shall be home- 
 less if this place goes back to Mr. Seaton again, 
 as it must if we do not realize something from 
 the sheep." 
 
 " That's settled then. But I'm terribly afraid 
 you will be obliged to part with them, whether 
 or no. There ain't a better shepherd in all 
 Montana than old Antonio Martinez, who, with 
 his son, Jose, has charge of your flock, and he 
 scents danger or he wouldn't keep the flock 
 where the only thing that there's plenty of is 
 water. Oh, Seaton knew what he was about 
 when he slid out of the valley like a scared 
 coyote. He was fleeing from the wrath to come,
 
 A CHANGE OF OPINION 103 
 
 and I'm afraid that's what the Mexicans will do. 
 When they are afraid to keep sheep on their 
 own account they won't be apt to tend any one's 
 flock long for wages." 
 
 " We must hope for the best," returned Aunt 
 Matilda, firmly, "and whatever happens, Mr. 
 Beaumont, we must keep this trouble from my 
 brother ; he's more apprehensive for the girls 
 than I am. I know what stuff they are made of, 
 and what they or what Elsie, at least, can do 
 if worst comes to worst." 
 
 " I heard when I was down at the store last 
 night that you folks had been over to see Roy 
 Jones's wife," remarked Rome with seeming 
 irrelevance. 
 
 " Why, yes ! She's very sick, poor thing, 
 and no one but her husband to care for her. 
 He seems very fond of her, and does his best, 
 but that isn't any too good when a woman is as 
 sick as she is ; she was so glad to see Florence 
 and me. She'd heard some way of Florence's 
 singing curious how much the people seem to 
 know about us when we know so little about
 
 104 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 them," Aunt Matilda added in parenthesis, 
 " and wanted to hear her. Florence sang ' My 
 old Kentucky home,' and then ' Nearer my God 
 to Thee,' and Mrs. Jones just laid there and 
 cried, poor thing !" 
 
 Rome chuckled. " Was Roy Jones there ?" 
 
 "Yes; I am bound to say that his manner 
 was far less cordial than that of his wife ; but 
 he was present, and was civil, at least." 
 
 We were sitting in the house ; father and 
 Vevie being out for a stroll. " I ain't asking 
 very many questions nor calling any names," 
 Rome said, eying the toe of his old, worn boot 
 attentively, " but I am bound to say that the 
 credit of bearding the lion in his den belongs to 
 Miss Florence. I hope that Mrs. Jones's sick- 
 ness may continue until after we harvest the 
 clip. And if you are sensible you'll keep on 
 visiting Mrs. Jones, and keep up the singing." 
 
 After Rome was gone that morning Aunt 
 Matilda said, "Come, Elsie, let's go out and 
 join Hugh and Vevie. I feel as though some- 
 thing would happen before long and I want to
 
 A CHANGE OF OPINION 105 
 
 get acquainted with our surroundings before 
 it comes. While we are out I shall stop to 
 investigate every anthill and bit of clay that 
 Hugh gets his eyes on, so you know we won't 
 get tired from too long a walk." 
 
 Aunt Matilda was a model housekeeper, and 
 it was quite unusual for her to propose such a 
 thing as leaving the house while the unwashed 
 breakfast dishes remained on the table, as they 
 did at that moment. I gladly accompanied her, 
 and we spent a pleasant hour in wandering up 
 and down the river bank with father and Vevie. 
 It was so bright and pleasant out-of-doors that 
 the unknown danger threatening us seemed for 
 the time being scarcely more than some wild 
 dream. 
 
 We all returned to the house together, where, 
 to our surprise, we found Florence busily en- 
 gaged in washing the breakfast things. We had 
 left her swinging comfortably in the hammock 
 under the big pine, and she had declined to ac- 
 company us on the ground of weariness. Now, 
 Aunt Matilda believes in young people fitting
 
 106 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 themselves for the exercise of their own especial 
 gifts if they have any. Florence's gift re- 
 quires a light touch and a dainty hand, hence 
 it had come to be an unwritten law of the family 
 that she was never to be called upon to do any 
 work that would blemish those useful members, 
 so Aunt Matilda at once entered a protest : 
 "Now why do you do that?" she exclaimed, at- 
 tempting to take the dish-towel from Florence, 
 who laughingly resisted. " You'll spoil your 
 hands," Aunt Matilda continued. 
 
 Florence clung to the towel with one hand, 
 lifting the other reddened member from the 
 water, gazed at it contemplatively : " Those 
 hands, those little, little parboiled hands. Is 
 there not cold water enough in San Coulee to 
 make them white again ?" she cried tragically ; 
 then, plunging her hands again into the water 
 and continuing her task briskly, she continued 
 more earnestly, " Aunt Matilda, I've had a rev- 
 elation. It came to me partly through Mr. 
 Rome's talk not by it, but through it like sun- 
 light through a rift in the clouds and partly
 
 A CHANGE OF OPINION 107 
 
 because the mountains are so great and I am so 
 little. While I was journeying to this valley of 
 blessing on the back of his ox, the revelation 
 made itself clear ; it ran something like this : 
 ' Florence, you have always insisted on having 
 the rough places made smooth to your feet before 
 you would go forth ; you have thrown away 
 golden opportunities for improvement rather 
 than yield an inch of your own ignorant, stiff- 
 necked pride ; you have taken the cream of 
 daily life and left to the unselfish ones the skim 
 milk. It has become customary in your family 
 to give up the best of everything to you because 
 the poor creatures have deluded themselves into 
 the idea that you are a genius. In other words," 
 she continued, seizing the skillet and plunging 
 it vigorously into the water though she ought 
 to have washed the coffee cups first " my sel- 
 fishness, my laziness, my general worthlessness, 
 have all been condoned, excused, forgiven, because 
 you are all so good and have a faith in me that 
 no act of mine has ever justified. I don't be- 
 lieve hand me the glasses, Vevie, dear ," and
 
 108 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 she did wash the glasses, after the skillet, while 
 Aunt Matilda shuddered but said nothing 
 " that I'd ever have waked up enough to realize 
 it all if we had stayed in the East. It has been 
 coming to me, bit by bit, ever since we came in 
 sight of the mountains ; there's something up- 
 lifting about them. One is ashamed to be small 
 and self-seeking and vain in their presence. I'd 
 hate to have that monarch," she waved one red- 
 dened hand toward the white peak gleaming 
 against the eastern sky " see me making cari- 
 catures of him in the holy name of art, while 
 my tired Aunt Matilda and quiet, uncomplaining 
 Elsie drudged away at the housework. I think 
 I have it in me to become a capable housemaid, 
 and I shall confine my ambition to that here- 
 after." She concluded with a flourish of the 
 dish-towel, but, for all that, so much in earnest 
 that there were tears in her bright eyes. Father, 
 who seldom pays any heed to our household talk, 
 had been listening intently to her words. Now 
 he spoke, and with as much earnestness as she 
 herself had shown :
 
 A CHANGE OF OPINION 109 
 
 "Florence, do not make the fatal mistake 
 of attempting to subordinate your own espe- 
 cial talents to the unceasing petty demands 
 of daily life. You may have been selfish, 
 as you say ; selfishness is a common fault 
 of youth ; you have, perhaps, allowed bur- 
 dens that you should have helped to carry to 
 fall heavily upon other more yielding should- 
 ers, and you have turned in distrust from the 
 things that belong especially to you, things 
 that you can do more than well, that with 
 a little conscientious effort you might become 
 pre-eminent in. And why ? Just because you 
 could not, at a bound, do what those who at- 
 tempted to instruct you, only acquired the skill 
 to do by long and patient practice. You have 
 not had the courage and perseverance to attempt 
 to reach your own high ideal. For that I blame 
 you, and for nothing else. The monotonous 
 round of household tasks that you now claim 
 shall be the goal of your ambition, can be done 
 just as well by other hands ; will be done, next 
 week, next year, a century hence when we are
 
 110 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 all in our graves ; and that you have done them 
 once will be of no more moment than that last 
 summer a vagrant wind played among our pine 
 trees. But the picture that you might paint, 
 the song that your voice might give to the world 
 may be an inspiration, an incentive to a better 
 life long after we have moldered into dust. A 
 strain of music, a beautiful picture, may become 
 the ministers of consolation that will lift a 
 stricken heart as high as heaven. You might, 
 from your new standpoint, say with equal justice 
 that we are selfish since we have always done all 
 in our power to encourage you, to leave you free 
 for the exercise of your beautiful gifts ; our sel- 
 fishness consisted in the expectation that we 
 would be entertained and cheered by them. I 
 do not undervalue those small necessary house- 
 hold tasks, which, if left undone, would render 
 us all miserable. You do not decry painting ; 
 you do not, as I have heard you claim, murder 
 music, but you do do both when you say that you 
 will give them up in order to " 
 
 " I'll do both, papa," interrupted Florence,
 
 4 CHANGE OF OPINION 111 
 
 earnestly. " I'll be a good, helpful girl and a 
 faithful student, too, you see if I don't." 
 
 " As for giving up your music," put in Aunt 
 Matilda, briskly, as she possessed herself of the 
 dish-towel. " You can't do that ; not while Mrs. 
 Jones is sick ; Mr. Beaumont makes it a point 
 that you shall sing to her often." 
 
 " Why ?" asked Florence. 
 
 " He didn't say why ; I suppose he has his 
 reasons." And I, recalling Rome's chuckle, 
 remembered at the same time the old saying 
 anent the power of music over the savage breast. 
 
 Father, smiling at Florence's vehemence, took 
 up a book and was soon lost to all outward im- 
 pressions ; but Aunt Matilda presently remarked 
 to me in a kind of glorified aside : 
 
 " I doubt if our venture will prove an entire 
 failure, Elsie, even if the sheep ranch does dis- 
 appoint us."
 
 CHAPTER VIH 
 
 A VISIT FROM THE MEXICAN SHEPHERDS 
 
 THE book that father was poring over was an 
 old botany. He had found a very curious flower 
 during our walk, and was intent on classifying 
 it. It was a beautiful blossom, not unlike a day 
 lily in structure and odor, but very much 
 smaller; and, if possible, of a more pearly 
 whiteness. The flower springs directly from 
 the sod, dispensing with the usual accessories 
 of stem and leaf. Seeing him so absorbed in 
 his congenial task I was thankful enough that 
 only Aunt Matilda and I knew why poor 
 Johnny Alton's intellect had not kept pace with 
 his bodily growth, and that it was on our hearts 
 alone that the thought of the sheep starving in 
 the upper valley rested so heavily ; for, in spite 
 of all Aunt Matilda's devices to cheat herself 
 into cheerfulness, we thought of little else. 
 Along in the forenoon, while Florence was 
 112
 
 A VISIT FROM THE SHEPHERDS 113 
 
 devising some picture canvases, and Vevie was 
 seriously engaged in helping father to dissect 
 the new flower, she said to me : 
 
 " Do you remember, Elsie, Rome said that we 
 could get a glimpse of that valley and probably 
 of the sheep if we cared to climb to the top of 
 that low mountain north of us. ' Top of the 
 hogback,' he called it. I've been thinking that 
 I'll go up this afternoon." 
 
 " It will be a rough climb," I said, looking 
 up at the elevation in question, with its acres 
 of rocks and dwarfed jack oaks, " but I'll go 
 with you." 
 
 I said it would be a rough climb, but rough 
 was a mild word to use in describing it. The 
 way would not have been quite so fearfully beset 
 with poison oak, jack oak, briers, loose shale, and 
 cactus, if we had taken the short, steep path that 
 the herders sometimes used, although even they 
 greatly preferred to follow the winding upward 
 trail along which it was possible to ride a horse, 
 notwithstanding it was some two miles longer. 
 But we did not know of it. There were many 
 8
 
 114 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 things that we poor Eastern ignoramuses were 
 left to learn through bitter experience. Half- 
 way up the steep ascent, which from the valley 
 did not look to be half so steep or so high as it 
 really was, we came upon an inviting looking 
 bed of low green vines. It appeared so soft 
 and tempting that aunt, who was a few steps 
 in advance, called back to me : " I'm going to 
 sit down here and rest awhile, Elsie." Imme- 
 diately I heard a cry of anguish : " Elsie ! Oh, 
 it's nettles ! I plucked some and oh, my poor 
 hands !" Her hands were bare and the palms 
 were so full of stings that they seemed suddenly 
 to have clothed themselves in a new kind of 
 fine hair. 
 
 " We'd better go back," I said, staring at her 
 helplessly while she waved her burning hands 
 in agony. 
 
 " I won't go back, for a little thing like this. 
 I'll know a nettle next time I see it, though, 
 and I'll know another thing. There's an old 
 saw that runs :
 
 A VISIT FROM THE SHEPHERDS 115 
 
 'Tender handed stroke a nettle, 
 
 And it stings you for your pains ; 
 Grasp it like a man of mettle, 
 And it soft as silk remains.' 
 
 I grasped them like a man of mettle, but they 
 didn't feel like silk. There's this virtue in a 
 nettle sting, though, it doesn't last long; it's 
 like putting one's hands into fire while it does 
 last. We'll be more careful after this !" 
 
 We were so very careful that our caution re- 
 tarded our progress, for, scenting danger now in 
 the most innocent shrubs, we dared not avail our- 
 selves of the strong branches of the jack oaks as 
 we had been doing, to help us in climbing, but 
 worked our way upward laboriously on hands 
 and knees when we could keep our footing in 
 no other way. At length, with the last remain- 
 ing bit of strength we reached the craggy sum- 
 mit together, and, looking down on the other 
 side, we both uttered a startled "Oh!" We 
 had ascended the northern side of the mountain 
 which had from a Montana point of view 
 a good deal of vegetation, but the opposite,
 
 116 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 southern slope seemed to our unaccustomed eyes 
 as bare of everything as the palm of one's hand, 
 save a chaotic jumble of rocks, scrub oaks, and 
 scraggy pines. How could any grazing animal 
 live in such a barren spot ? Something did live 
 there, however. It seemed to me in the first 
 moment of amazed contemplation, that the little 
 walled-in valley held millions and millions of 
 sheep ; they were everywhere. They swarmed 
 up the hillsides and were only restrained from 
 swarming over it, I quickly observed, by the 
 vigilant watchfulness of a shaggy, rough looking 
 dog, who went dashing hither and thither, 
 bringing back to the lower slope any animal 
 that strayed farther away than he thought ad- 
 visable. Presently we descried two swarthy 
 looking men lounging in the shadow of a huge 
 rock, near what was probably their camp, a rude 
 little cabin of unhewn logs ; sometimes one or 
 the other of them shouted a word of direction 
 or command, I suppose, for I observed that the 
 collie altered his course, or stood obediently 
 listening whenever either spoke. Fortunately,
 
 IT SEEMED AS IF THE VALLEY HELD MILLIONS OF SHEEP 
 (Page 116.)
 
 A VISIT FROM THE SfiEfHERDS 117 
 
 the odd foreign words stuck in my memory, 
 though I did not understand their meaning. 
 
 Aunt Matilda, standing by my side, watched 
 the scene with kindling eyes. " Shall we give 
 them up to the rustlers, Elsie ?" she whispered. 
 
 " Not until we've tried keeping them, aunt." 
 
 " I don't believe matters are quite so bad as 
 Rome would have us think, anyway," she said 
 after a thoughtful pause, during which we had 
 both been attentively studying the situation. 
 " But, Elsie, we must get the poor things out on 
 the plains ; to the summer range that we have 
 leased. I wonder if you and Florence could 
 stand it to ride up here to-morrow and make 
 those men understand that we want the sheep 
 taken to better pasturage ?" 
 
 " We can certainly ride up here, Aunt Ma- 
 tilda. You know we've been riding every day 
 for three weeks now, but I very much doubt 
 our being able to make the Mexicans under- 
 stand that we want the sheep taken outside the 
 valley, or anything else." 
 
 " That is an objection. I wish we understood
 
 118 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 Spanish ; we might buy a Spanish grammar, or 
 a conversation book." 
 
 " We'd better buy a pair of them ; then we 
 can hand one to the herder while we study the 
 other ; it wouldn't seem just right to hurl our 
 new-made Spanish at him when he has nothing 
 at hand to defend himself with." 
 
 " You may laugh ; but, I tell you, one of us 
 must begin taking lessons at once." 
 
 " Aunt Matilda, have you ever noticed that 
 everything we have undertaken since we first 
 heard of Mr. Seaton has been ' at once '?" 
 
 " That is true ; we have been forced to keep 
 up a pretty lively pace, and tfrere is no drawing 
 back now." 
 
 " No ; I'm not feeling as though I wanted to 
 draw back, either." 
 
 " It's bound to be a hard experience for you 
 two girls, Elsie. If only Donald had been as 
 true to us as we to him what a blessing he 
 would be to us now ! But it's useless to regret 
 Donald. We have to depend solely on our- 
 selves." It was the first reference she had made
 
 A VISIT FROM THE SHEPHERDS 119 
 
 to Donald's perfidy, and it was not made with- 
 out emotion. We stood in silence for some 
 minutes longer watching the scene below us, 
 and then, turning homeward, made our toilsome 
 way down the mountain. The downward path 
 is, however, proverbially easier to travel than 
 the one leading upward, and so it proved in our 
 case ; still we were so weary and disheveled 
 when we reached home that father observed in- 
 quiringly : " You have been for a long walk ?" 
 
 " Yes/' we replied. 
 
 " Don't exert yourselves beyond your 
 strength ; we shall have plenty of time for 
 exploration." 
 
 Our little sitting room was a cozy and invit- 
 ing place. I was thinking so that evening as 
 father and Vevie sat by the table carefully 
 placing between sheets of wrapping paper some 
 flowers that they had gathered, intent on pre- 
 serving them by pressing. Florence, in the 
 dusky corner by the organ, was softly touching 
 the keys, making a low accompaniment to the 
 pleasant silence for little was said. Johnny,
 
 120 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 whom one was apt to forget until he spoke 
 his silent presence was so unobtrusive said 
 suddenly : 
 
 " Some one knocked." Another of Johnny's 
 traits was a fear to open the door for a stranger. 
 He knew Rome's frequent knock well enough 
 to distinguish it from all others. I opened the 
 door. Two swarthy men in picturesque dress 
 were standing on the threshold. I recognized 
 them as our herders even before the elder, 
 speaking in halting English, proclaimed the 
 fact. In response to father's invitation they 
 entered the room timidly, and with furtive 
 glances like the shy, half-tamed dwellers of the 
 wilderness that they were, unheeding, or at 
 least ignoring, the seats offered them, the elder 
 began : 
 
 "Me I come to say at you; sheep no 
 more; no more." 
 
 The younger and smaller herder appeared to 
 indorse this speech, whatever it might mean, by 
 twisting one leg around the other and writhing 
 uneasily as he stood.
 
 A VISIT FROM THE SHEPHERDS 121 
 
 " Oh, is it possible !" cried father, much 
 shocked. " Why, Matilda, I gather from 
 what this man says that our sheep are all 
 dead !" 
 
 Apparently the herder understood English 
 much better than he could speak it. 
 
 " No, sefior ; no dead," he said, gravely. 
 " The sheeps, they live ; but of them we 
 no more watch we what you would say, 
 vamose." 
 
 " And if I said it I'm sure I shouldn't know 
 what it meant; what does it mean?" father 
 asked him. 
 
 " It means " the Mexican studied a moment 
 in perplexity, " no more we stay at the tail of 
 the sheep ; we go." 
 
 "Why?" father asked, and Aunt Matilda 
 leaned forward with whitening cheeks, more 
 afraid of what might be revealed to father than 
 of the thing itself, but with no possible excuse 
 for interference. The younger Mexican who had 
 been holding his hat deferentially in one hand, 
 now grasped it tightly in both, holding it over
 
 122 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 his heart as if fearful that that organ might 
 jump out while his senior replied: " It is no 
 good for any man to keep the sheeps." 
 
 " The man is probably dissatisfied with the 
 wages ; let him go. There are plenty of others, 
 Hugh," advised Aunt Matilda, who could hold 
 her peace no longer. 
 
 " Well, but, Matilda, they must stay until we 
 can engage some one else ; why, it's absurd, the 
 idea of their leaving in this way ! See here," 
 he continued in a tone of remonstrance, turning 
 again to the Mexican. " You'll have to stay 
 with us a few days longer, my friend, whether 
 or no. You must give us time to get another 
 herder before you leave us in the lurch." 
 
 The Mexican shook his head gently but in- 
 flexibly. " There was no more herder as you 
 could get; no more at all." 
 
 " Now see here," father said in rising excite- 
 ment, " I paid you, through Mr. Seaton, who 
 advised it, and very ill-advised it seems to have 
 been two months' wages in advance ; only five 
 weeks of that time has passed. I don't propose
 
 A VISIT FROM THE SHEPHERDS 123 
 
 to allow you to keep your money and desert 
 your place in this way." 
 
 For answer the herder slowly drew near the 
 table, and thrusting his hand into a pocket hid- 
 den somewhere within his fluttering garments, 
 pulled out a roll of grimy bills, and, unrolling 
 it, proceeded to count it out on the table, divid- 
 ing it into two heaps as he did so. " Uno, dos, 
 tres, cuatro, cinco, seis," he counted slowly and 
 with careful deliberation ; then he again rolled 
 ttp one diminished pile, pocketed it, and shoved 
 the other two toward father. " That much we 
 have not work ; here it is." 
 
 Father counted the bills. " That's right ; but 
 why do you leave ?" 
 
 "Sefior," returned the Mexican, with great ear- 
 nestness, "it is that we must. Me? I was sor- 
 rowful to leave the senor in difficult', but my 
 hermosa my brother and me not yet were we 
 ready to die." The younger herder nodded his 
 head in solemn corroboration of this statement, 
 and the elder went on, " To keep the sheeps 
 it is not now best if that one wishes to live."
 
 124 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 Father had nothing to say in answer to this 
 remarkable statement, and the herder made his 
 adieus with punctilious politeness the adieus 
 being repeated by the younger with the grave 
 accuracy of a parrot reciting a lesson. Then 
 turning toward the door, they opened it and 
 disappeared. 
 
 " I dare say it's some heathenish idea of pen- 
 ance, or making a pilgrimage, or a flagellation 
 that they've got into their heads," father was 
 saying, vaguely, when the door again opened 
 and the elder Mexican thrust his face and one 
 hand into the room. The extended hand held 
 out the soiled but picturesque garment that we 
 had seen but a moment before upon his shoul- 
 ders. 
 
 " Felix, he guard ; guard against all. White 
 man, no man touches sheep while Felix live 
 unless he show this at him and tell him, Felix, 
 perlita, it is well ; then he obey all that a white 
 man say." 
 
 He tossed the poncho at father's feet and again 
 vanished.
 
 A VISIT FROM THE SHEPHERDS 125 
 
 " Felix is the dog," observed Aunt Matilda, 
 touching the not too cleanly garment with the 
 toe of her slipper. " Well, I only hope he'll 
 prove more faithful than the men have done." 
 She gathered up the poncho after a moment's 
 silent contemplation. I thought she was about 
 to hang it out on the porch, but instead she 
 hung it carefully behind the door of the room 
 in which she slept. " I hope he has another," 
 she remarked ; " the nights are cold."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 INEXPERIENCED HERDERS 
 
 FATHER'S health had so much improved 
 during our few weeks' stay in the valley that 
 he had been able, with Johnny's help, to con- 
 struct a kind of kiln Johnny would persist in 
 calling it an oven for testing the various kinds 
 of clay that he found in his daily walks. He 
 was so interested in the manufacture of his 
 bricks, literally bricks without straw, hence the 
 patent for " earthenware houses," as he called 
 the ultimate design of all this experimenting 
 that I am afraid we counted quite confidently 
 upon his forgetting all about the starving sheep 
 without a shepherd in that lonely valley, three 
 miles away, but we did him injustice. After a 
 hasty breakfast, Florence and I, very early in 
 the morning, hurried out to the barn to super- 
 vise the saddling of our respective ponies. 
 Father was there before us. We had supposed 
 126
 
 INEXPERIENCED HERDERS 127 
 
 he was still in bed. " I got the start of you, 
 didn't I ?" he said smiling. " I have a shrewd 
 suspicion that you two meant to steal away and 
 leave your useless old father behind, but he's 
 going with you." 
 
 " It'll be such a hard ride for you, Hugh," 
 protested Aunt Matilda, who had discovered his 
 absence from the house, and advanced to the 
 rescue. 
 
 " Any harder for me, Matilda, than for these 
 girls?" 
 
 " Why, yes, of course it will be ; they're used 
 to riding, and you are not." 
 
 " I was once a good rider, and I think the old 
 skill will come back with a little practice." 
 
 "But, Hugh, it looks like rain; see those 
 clouds hanging around Mount Kenneth ! You 
 are not able to go ; what if you should get wet ?" 
 
 " What if Florence and Elsie should get wet? 
 Come, Matilda, I'm pretty obedient, as a gen- 
 eral thing, but you can't always coddle me as 
 you would a year-old baby. Johnny, get Chris 
 saddled while I'm eating breakfast."
 
 128 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 " Chris no good," said Johnny, surveying the 
 yellow buckskin with marked disfavor. 
 
 " Why do you say that ?" asked father, paus- 
 ing on his way to the house. 
 
 Johnny was seldom able to give a reason ; he 
 could not now, but shook his head dolefully, 
 repeating, " Chris no good." 
 
 " I'll risk him; get him ready," and he went 
 into the house. 
 
 " It will be so nice to have father go," said 
 Florence, who did not yet understand how mat- 
 ters stood, although Aunt Matilda and I, in 
 secret council, had decided that she was to be 
 enlightened as soon as an opportunity offered. 
 I had hoped that it would offer while we 
 were riding to the upper San Coulee, but 
 father's going put an end to that, and, as it was, 
 I was rather glad that she did not yet know. 
 We mounted our horses at the barn and then 
 rode up to the house with Johnny, who was 
 leading Chris. Father came out with a book in 
 his hand, which he thrust into the pocket of his 
 saddle. " Herding sheep is rather a monotonous
 
 INEXPERIENCED HERDERS 129 
 
 business," he remarked, after we were fairly 
 on the road. " A shepherd would have plenty 
 of time to get a good education if he could only 
 manage it himself." 
 
 " Well, I don't know that I would care to try 
 for an education in that way," returned Flor- 
 ence saucily ; " besides, while I was studying, 
 what would my sheep be doing ?" 
 
 " Oh, the sheep ! It's not much trouble to 
 watch them ; the shepherd sits on a rock " 
 " or a camp chair, if there's no rock handy," 
 interpolated Florence "on a rock with his 
 faithful dog beside him, and if any member of 
 the flock is inclined to stray from the fold the 
 obedient animal, at a given signal " 
 
 Florence laughed outright. " Papa, you've 
 got a good memory ; that's in the ' Swiss 
 Mountaineers.' " 
 
 " Is it ? Well, I wasn't quite sure myself that 
 it was original." 
 
 The trail was a plain one, although rough, 
 and father rode very much better than we had 
 thought lie could. It was a beautiful morning, 
 9
 
 130 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 so early yet that the jack oak thickets through 
 which we brushed showed a single great dew- 
 drop, like a sparkling diamond, at the tip of 
 each sharp-pointed leaf, and, as we journeyed 
 higher up, passing underneath the overhanging 
 branches of the pine trees, the stiff pine needles 
 rained down a cool, balsamic shower upon us. 
 From the nearer cafions heavy clouds of white 
 vapor ascended, the tribute of the always chilly 
 night to the approaching warmth of day. The 
 trail wound upward steadily ; it was longer than 
 I had supposed three miles of upward climb- 
 ing is a very much longer distance than the 
 same measure laid out on the level plains. Our 
 progress was slow, but it was to all so strange, so 
 new, so beautiful, that at every little park-like 
 opening we stopped to look about us. From 
 the dark depths of a canon on our left the Voice 
 of the rushing river sounded, foaming and fret- 
 ting at the obstructions that came in its way on 
 its tumultuous rush to the plains. The sun, as 
 we could see from our airy outlook, was shining 
 lull upon the plains, though the valley was still
 
 INEXPERIENCED HERDERS 131 
 
 in shadow. As we looked, first one long shaft 
 of golden light, then another and another, 
 touched the higher peaks and dropped softly 
 down and down into the valley, a growing, 
 expanding sheen of glory, dispersing and put- 
 ting the shadows to flight. The combinations 
 of shifting, changing color, as the sunlight 
 fell upon the clouds of vapor rolling up from 
 the canons were wonderful, ethereal, elusive, in- 
 describable. 
 
 " Up to the hills will I lift mine eyes ; will 
 lift mine eyes !" sang Florence, jubilantly. She 
 stopped abruptly, her rose-tinted cheeks blanch- 
 ing. " What was that ?" 
 
 It was the sound made by hundreds of small, 
 sharp little hoofs as they went scurrying away in 
 a panic. With the sound was mingled the angry, 
 excited barking of a dog, as, judging from the 
 sound, he darted hither and thither among the 
 hurrying hoofs. 
 
 "That, I judge, is a little commotion among 
 sheep," said father, pressing forward, " and, yes, 
 here they are."
 
 132 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 There they were, truly ! The rocky shoulder 
 around which we had just ridden had its 
 counterpart on the other side. The long, flank- 
 ing spurs of two near mountains coming close 
 together and ending abruptly in perpendicular 
 walls of rock, formed a narrow, natural gateway 
 to the valley. The encircling mountains rose 
 sheer and close on every hand, and this narrow 
 pass was the only practicable outlet to the lower 
 valley, although there was a wider outlet on the 
 farther, southern extremity. All this we learned 
 later ; just now we were being strongly urged to 
 define our position. The sheep were scattering 
 up the mountain sides in all directions, bleating 
 in terror, for such was the effect that Florence's 
 exquisite voice had had on the foolish creatures, 
 and the disgusted dog, abandoning a futile 
 but heroic attempt to reduce them to order, 
 turned his attention to us, the intruders who 
 had stolen upon his charges while the shepherds 
 were absent. He was thus called upon to decide, 
 according to the light of experience, whether 
 we were to be regarded as friends or foes.
 
 INEXPERIENCED HERDERS 133 
 
 Apparently his experience had not been favora- 
 ble to confidence. He regarded us as enemies, and 
 conducted himself accordingly. Father, whose 
 long legs dangled dangerously near the ground 
 as he sat upon the small yellow broncho, pulled 
 his grizzled mustache, thoughtfully contem- 
 plating the dog, who had taken his position 
 beside a rock a few feet in advance of us, and 
 was evidently prepared to maintain that position 
 with the sacrifice of his life if need be. Father 
 then remarked in a tone more of sorrow than of 
 anger : 
 
 " This is a queer predicament ; the dog thinks 
 we've no business here ; he may be right, but I 
 wish we could hit upon some way of explaining 
 the situation to him. Didn't the man say his 
 name was Felix ?" 
 
 There was no occasion for a reply from either 
 of us. At the sound of his own name the collie 
 dropped his defiant tail and bristling hair, 
 stopped barking, and looked inquiringly, yet 
 doubtfully in father's face. " Good dog ! Good 
 Felix!" said father, urging Chris to take
 
 134 THE GTRL RANCHERS 
 
 another step forward. But Felix was not to be 
 taken off his guard ; he growled angrily, his 
 eyes gleaming fiercely, and father stopped. 
 Then, suddenly, I thought of the Mexican's 
 poncho that Aunt Matilda had rolled into a 
 compact little bundle and tied to my saddle. 
 Untying it, I shook it out and sprang from my 
 horse, and cautiously advanced toward the 
 collie, who, ceasing his warlike demonstrations, 
 was silently observing my movements. 
 
 Now it is not given to all people to be under- 
 stood and beloved by dogs, but I am proud to 
 say that I have never failed in securing their 
 friendship when I tried. So now, as I con- 
 tinued, in spite of the whispered remonstrance 
 of the others, to walk toward poor Felix, I was 
 not at all afraid, in spite of his angry eyes. I 
 held the poncho out to him, saying, "Felix, 
 come ! Good Felix, come !" The poor fellow 
 advanced a step ; smelled of the garment, and 
 looked up at me appealingly, it seemed to my 
 excited fancy, even reproachfully, and I won- 
 dered whimsically if he suspected me of having
 
 INEXPERIENCED HERDERS 135 
 
 made way with the missing shepherds. Then, 
 laying his body on the ground, he writhed up 
 to my feet, and, with his nose on his paws, 
 whined imploringly. I stopped and patted his 
 head. " Good Felix !" was all that I could say, 
 it was enough ; henceforth he recognized my 
 right to command, while he simply accorded a 
 cold toleration to the others, who had disdained 
 the Mexican's card of introduction. 
 
 Thrilled with my success with the guardian 
 of the flock, I recalled the uncomprehended 
 words that had floated up to my ears as I gazed 
 down into the valley the day before ; they were 
 directions to the dog which the herder issued at 
 his indolent ease, but with instant effect. I 
 reasoned sagely that the collie would under- 
 stand their meaning if I did not. The sheep 
 were still scattering wildly up the mountain 
 slopes. " Ve alia ! ve alia, Felix !" I cried, 
 plunging recklessly into Spanish. The effect 
 was electrifying. Away and up the mountain 
 the collie darted, scrambling over rocks, through 
 brush and fallen trees until he had circled
 
 136 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 around the fleeing sheep and brought them to a 
 standstill ; then he stopped, perched on a rock 
 high above, and peered inquiringly at me. 
 
 " He's waiting for further orders, Elsie," cried 
 Florence, laughing. " Come, you've won his 
 allegiance, and now air your Spanish a little 
 more I suppose it's Spanish, though I doubt if 
 one of the hidalgos would admit it and tell the 
 poor fellow what to do next." 
 
 " They are only the calls that I heard the 
 shepherds using when Aunt Matilda and I were 
 up in the mountain yesterday. I remembered 
 the sound ; I think perhaps I'd better try an- 
 other." 
 
 " Do," urged father. " We may learn some- 
 thing if the collie don't, and of the lot of us we 
 stand the most in need of enlightenment." 
 
 " Cuidado !" I cried imperatively, but that 
 was plainly a mistake. Felix bounded from his 
 post, running to and fro along the outer edges 
 of the flock, evidently in anxious search of some 
 fancied danger, that I made haste to hurl an- 
 other Spanish morsel at him. " Reloj, Felix !"
 
 INEXPERIENCED HERDEES 137 
 
 Instantly the dog, abandoning his air of strained 
 attention, sat down upon his haunches and dis- 
 posed himself to keeping watch comfortably. 
 
 "That was right, I'm sure, whatever it 
 meant," said father. " It's a pity the poor brute 
 don't understand English at all." 
 
 " I don't think he's a brute, father," I could 
 not help saying reproachfully, " and I'm sure he 
 can learn anything he wishes. I'll undertake 
 his education in English," which I did from that 
 day and with such success that, before the season 
 was over, I reckoned my collie an accomplished 
 linguist, as collies go. 
 
 We decided, as the sheep were now grazing 
 peaceably, to leave them to Felix while we 
 amused ourselves by investigating the herder's 
 cabin. The herders had left in haste, but 
 they had taken all of their few personal effects 
 with them. There was not, seemingly, a 
 scrap of anything left in the cabin save a 
 dirty water bucket, a few rusty tin cans, and a 
 small pile of firewood. In one corner was a 
 fireplace, built Mexican fashion, and in this we
 
 138 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 were presently making a fire, not that we needed 
 it, but as a kind of provision for the future. 
 The sunny sky had already become overcast, 
 and the rain that Aunt Matilda presaged, seemed 
 imminent. We had brought long ropes, or 
 lariats, with which to tether the horses, intending 
 to stake them out on the grass, but there was no 
 grass for them. They would not even make a 
 pretense of eating, but looked after us expectantly 
 wherever we went ; evidently longing to take the 
 homeward trail. 
 
 We had brought lunch for ourselves and a 
 substantial dinner for Felix. We ate our lunch 
 outside the cabin at noon for even the attrac- 
 tive little fireplace could not reconcile us to the 
 too pronounced smell of the cabin and then I 
 called Felix down to eat his meal. He came, 
 reluctantly and with an apologetic air as though 
 doing something unusual. He knew, as I did 
 not, that he ought not to leave the flock, but he 
 had just sworn allegiance to me and he came. 
 Soon a warning peal of thunder came from a 
 cloud hanging over the mountains, and great
 
 INEXPERIENCED HERDERS 139 
 
 drops of rain began to fall. Florence and I 
 made haste to bring our saddles into the cabin, 
 and, throwing them down before the fire, we 
 used them as seats while father occupied the 
 stool that the Mexicans had left just outside the 
 door. He had placed the stool near the open 
 doorway and was soon lost to all else in rapt con- 
 templation of the alternately darkening and 
 brightening crest of the opposite mountain, as 
 the storm of wind and rain swept over it. 
 
 I was secretly worried by the behavior of the 
 dog, who lingered just outside the door, occa- 
 sionally looking in at us wistfully and whining. 
 
 "I don't believe our cookery agrees with 
 Felix," remarked Florence at last; "he acts 
 as if he were sick." She picked up a billet 
 of wood as she spoke and tossed it on the fire. 
 Underneath the stick a fragment of soiled writ- 
 ing paper was lying, and she picked that up, 
 too, tendering it to me daintily. " Here, here's 
 something with writing on it ; perhaps it's in 
 Spanish ; shall we call the dog in to help trans- 
 late ?" But the happy laughter died out of her
 
 140 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 eyes as she looked at me and observed my face, 
 which I felt was blanching. I read the note 
 and knew why the herders had been in such 
 haste to leave : 
 
 " To Juan and Antonio Baca," it began, for 
 it was written in English, " Take notice, you 
 two Mexican coyotes ! If either of you are found 
 in this valley twenty-four hours from now you'll 
 be shot at sight ; take notice and govern your- 
 selves accordingly." 
 
 I passed the note to Florence. " What does 
 it mean ? Do you know ?" she whispered. I 
 nodded yes. 
 
 Just then father's voice broke the silence: 
 " The mountain heights ! How wild, how mys- 
 tical they seem ; now hidden by ragged clouds, 
 now standing out clearly in the sunlight ; even 
 those small white animals that seem to be going 
 up among the clouds in an endless procession 
 add to the wildness of the scene." 
 
 With a startled cry I broke into his day 
 dream. Those small white animals that gave 
 wildness to the scene were our sheep, fleeing
 
 INEXPERIENCED HERDERS 141 
 
 wildly as if in fear, and disappearing over the 
 mountain's rocky crest like the mist that had 
 so lately hung there ; and all, I told myself bit- 
 terly in the first moment of self-abasement, be- 
 cause I had forgotten to put on guard poor 
 faithful Felix, who had for the last two hours 
 been begging for orders.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 A STAMPEDED FLOCK 
 
 DARTING by father, I ran out and poured into 
 Felix's willing ears all the orders that I could 
 recall in one disjointed, passionate volley. " Ve 
 alia! De una Vex! Cuidado! Reloj !" I 
 shouted wildly. Fortunately Felix knew what 
 to do all he had waited for was the permission 
 to do it. Half the flock were by this time out 
 of sight. Even to our unaccustomed eyes the 
 task before Felix appeared so hopeless that we 
 made no move to go to his aid. 
 
 "If we could only get around on the other 
 side and shoo them back !" exclaimed Florence, 
 hopelessly. Father thought a moment. "I 
 believe that is the only feasible thing to do," he 
 said, presently. " We'd better saddle up and 
 get after them as soon as possible." We were 
 presently on the trail again, looking carefully 
 along either side for some place in which to get 
 142
 
 A STAMPEDED FLOCK 143 
 
 down and make the detour around the moun- 
 tains that father suggested. Felix had not at- 
 tempted to drive the sheep that were yet in sight 
 down to the valley again, but was after the runa- 
 ways. We could hear his bark growing faint 
 and fainter as we rode down the trail. 
 
 "This will never do," father said at last, 
 drawing rein. " We must take the first break 
 in the hills that we come to and get to that dog's 
 assistance." The break came soon in the form 
 of an innocent seeming gully that, dipping 
 downward at a pretty sharp angle, lost itself in 
 a tangle of poplar and quaking aspens. Down 
 it we rode, and forced our way through the pop- 
 lar thicket, getting drenched to the skin by the 
 water that still dripped from the overhanging 
 boughs. It seemed so reckless for father to 
 allow himself to get wet in this way that both 
 Florence and I urged him to go back, but he 
 would not listen to us. 4< Push on, children," 
 he insisted ; " we'll be out of this soon." We 
 soon were out of it, and we found ourselves 
 at the bottom of a gorge with rocky, nearly
 
 144 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 perpendicular walls, towering higher and higher 
 at every step. 
 
 " This does not seem to be a very popular 
 route to the other side," remarked Florence, 
 who was in the lead, as she urged the unwilling 
 broncho slowly forward. 
 
 " Wait !" cried father. " Listen ! I'm afraid 
 we are going away from the sheep rather than 
 toward them. Do you hear the dog !" We did 
 not, but decided to press forward a few steps 
 farther. The way soon grew so difficult that 
 father again called a halt. The gorge was dark, 
 damp, and cold, and he was shivering. 
 
 " Really, girls, I'm afraid we'll have to give 
 it up ; we are so unused to the mountain trails 
 that" 
 
 "Hello! hello, down there! What you 
 doin'," called a voice from above. The voice 
 was harsh, there was a suspicion of a sneer in it, 
 but Florence brightened. 
 
 " It's our friend, the husband of Mrs. Jones," 
 she ejaculated, while father, lifting his own 
 voice explained our position and purpose.
 
 A STAMPEDED FLOCK 145 
 
 " Where does this gorge lead to, anyway ?" he 
 asked in conclusion. 
 
 " It don't lead ; it loses," returned the hoarse 
 tones of the saturnine Jones. " If you keep 
 right on you'll find out for yourselves before 
 long. You'll be traveling out to the plains on 
 the current of the Rio San Coulee, for there 
 ain't room for a horse to get down airy other 
 way; but you won't know it. There hain't 
 nothing ever got through that cafion alive that 
 ever I heard of." 
 
 We had by this time located the voice, or the 
 owner of it. He was standing on the verge of 
 a cliff; the vegetation was so dense that only 
 his head and shoulders were visible, against the 
 gray background of a sky that was still half 
 disposed to shed rainy tears he looked not unlike 
 a colossal, ill-natured cherub. We turned our 
 horses about, and rode as straight homeward as 
 the very crooked trail would admit of. Felix 
 and the sheep were for the nonce left to their 
 fate. We hoped that Rome might call that 
 evening, and our hopes were realized. He was 
 10
 
 146 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 plainly very much disturbed by what he heard, 
 but he wasted no time in lamentations. No 
 sooner was the story told than he arose from 
 his chair, saying, " I'll go out to the stable with 
 Johnny and tackle up one of your horses if you 
 don't mind. I reckon the sooner some one is 
 on the trail of those sheep the more of them 
 there will be left." 
 
 " Why, but surely, you won't think of going 
 to-night?" objected father. " I feel your kind- 
 ness deeply, but it seems to me it is imposing 
 upon it to ask you to go out to-night after a 
 flock of runaway sheep." 
 
 " You haven't asked me ; I'm going whether 
 or no," returned Rome, sturdily. "You see, 
 Mr. Stanley, what between wolves and mountain 
 lions, and other things, there won't be four 
 hundred hoofs left if we let 'em run loose a few 
 hours longer." 
 
 " You don't mean that wild animals would 
 destroy over three thousand sheep in one night !" 
 exclaimed father, aghast. 
 
 " No ; but I do mean that they'd scatter four
 
 A STAMPEDED FLOCK 147 
 
 times that number to the four winds, so that it 
 would take weeks to get together again what 
 there was left of them. Sheep that are kept on 
 a mountain range have got to be watched," he 
 concluded, with significant emphasis. 
 
 " I'll take your horse, Luck, if you don't 
 mind, Miss Elsie." 
 
 Now I was very anxious for an opportunity 
 to speak to Rome alone, for I was sure, from his 
 manner and worried looks, that he saw some- 
 thing besides an accident in the stampede of our 
 sheep. His electing to take Luck gave me the 
 chance I was waiting for. 
 
 " Then I'll go out to the barn with you and 
 tell him that he mustn't hurt you." 
 
 " All right ; I reckon you can get that into 
 his head better than I can." 
 
 As he strode out at the front door I followed 
 him ; but I had time to observe that Aunt Ma- 
 tilda had suddenly disappeared into the kitchen, 
 whence another door opened in the direction of 
 the barn, and it was no surprise to find her 
 already awaiting us when we got there. Rome
 
 148 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 dismissed Johnny when he saw Aunt Matilda. 
 " You may go in, Johnny ; I'll get along all 
 right." And Johnny, who had heard and un- 
 derstood just enough of what had occurred to 
 render him more timid than usual, gladly 
 obeyed. 
 
 " I've been wondering how I could get to 
 speak to you and not let your father know," 
 Rome said, as Johnny got out of earshot. " I 
 wanted to ask you again about the way the 
 sheep went. Did you say they seemed fright- 
 ened?" 
 
 " Yes ; and there was nothing to frighten 
 them that I could see." 
 
 " That you could see. That's right, I reckon ; 
 but if some one who wanted to put 'em in mo- 
 tion had been crawling along among the bushes 
 and in the shadows of the rocks the sheep would 
 a been apt to see it ; that was what was done. 
 You said that the dog was angry. What was 
 there for him to be angry about in the sheep 
 just getting a little out of bounds? It's been a 
 good day's work, Miss Elsie, that you folks went
 
 A STAMPEDED FLOCK 149 
 
 up there to-day. I hain't a doubt but what it 
 saved the life of the dog." 
 
 " How so ?" asked Aunt Matilda. 
 
 " The dog is a good deal in the way when it 
 comes to running the sheep off quietly ; if you 
 hadn't a gone up and got there in good season, 
 too, the skulking cowards as their first move 
 would a shot him, but finding you there they 
 had to be more cautious." 
 
 " Oh, I think you must be mistaken ; I think 
 it must have been an accident," said Aunt Ma- 
 tilda, almost imploringly. 
 
 " We might jest as well face the truth first as 
 last," declared Koine, and that big helpful " we " 
 thrilled my heart, although I felt that it was 
 selfish to allow this man to take our troubles 
 upon his shoulders only because they were will- 
 ing ; we had no claim on him, but we were in 
 desperate need of his aid. 
 
 I had not yet told Aunt Matilda of the note 
 we found in the herder's cabin ; now I told of 
 it, to her dismay, but Rome was not at all sur- 
 prised. " I was just as sure that the cattlemen
 
 150 THE GIEL RANCHERS 
 
 had a hand in this day's work before you told 
 of that, Miss Elsie, as I am now. They are 
 trying to drive you out quietly ; I reckon they 
 don't want to be too savage with a lot of women 
 folks. I hope, Miss Florence, and you, Miss 
 Stanley, keep on visiting Mrs. Jones," he added 
 in an irrelevant parenthesis, " and I'm afraid 
 you won't get any herders either." Father had 
 told him that we proposed looking for some the 
 next day. "Antonio and Juan Baca would take 
 more risk for a flock of sheep than any other 
 Mexicans that ever I saw ; if they have thrown 
 up the job, it's thrown up for good as far as the 
 Mexicans are concerned ; they are all afraid, as 
 well may they be, but, Miss Stanley, I'm going 
 to tell you something now that'll make you 
 think I'm a coward, sure." 
 
 " While you are saddling up to go out into 
 the mountains in search of a flock of sheep that 
 you think have been stampeded by murderous 
 cattlemen, alone, and at night ?" queried Aunt 
 Matilda, smiling faintly. 
 
 " Well, I ain't a coward ; I only said you'd
 
 A STAMPEDED FLOCK 151 
 
 think I was. I'm just as sure that you will not 
 be able to hire a herder, black or white, brown 
 or red, to take the place of those that left you 
 as I would be if I followed Mr. Stanley to- 
 morrow from one Mexican's 'dobe to another 
 and heard them all tell him, as polite as so many 
 dancing masters, ' No sabe, no sabe.' And he'll 
 go away discouraged, thinkin' he can't make 
 them understand. They understand fast enough, 
 but he'll never find it out. It'll be perfectly 
 safe, Miss Stanley, for him to go shepherd hunt- 
 ing, for he'll never learn anything you don't 
 want him to know from them. But what I was 
 going to say was this : the only persons who can 
 herd them sheep in safety are the young ladies 
 themselves. There ain't a cattleman in Mon- 
 tana, to my notion, that would touch a hair of 
 their heads, while they'd shoot down a man en- 
 gaged in the same business and be glad of the 
 chance. They'll try to run off the stock, like 
 enough time and again ; but they'll do it on the 
 sly, as they tried to this time. If it hadn't 
 chanced that you got up there before they got
 
 152 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 to work, your sheep would a' been gone, and 
 you none the wiser. When I said that you'd 
 think me a coward, I was goin' on to say further 
 that while I wouldn't be a mite afraid to have 
 the young ladies take charge of the herd as far 
 as their safety went, I'd be some afraid to do it 
 myself. You see herding and cattle ranching 
 ain't my business and they all know it. They'd 
 be uncommon blazing mad at me if I was known 
 to take a hand in this ; not but what I'm going 
 to, all right, and I'll take my chances, too. 
 Roy Jo the cattlemen don't own all of Mon- 
 tana yet." 
 
 Rome had the horse saddled and ready by this 
 time ; he swung himself into the saddle with the 
 last words, gathered up the reins, but waited to 
 say, " Felix may have the sheep corralled some- 
 where in the mountains so that it won't be much 
 trouble to get them ; it all depends on whether 
 he was followed or not " And instantly there 
 flashed upon my mind a lonely, touching pic- 
 ture of the collie holding his charges by sheer 
 force of will somewhere off in the mountain
 
 A STAMPEDED FLOCK 153 
 
 fastnesses and watching through weary hours 
 for the help that did not come " if they were 
 followed far and scared bad it may take two or 
 three days to gather up what is left ; anyway, 
 don't look for me till you see me." 
 
 What a change came over Luck with this 
 stalwart rider on his back ; the subdued, care- 
 ful air, the painstaking planting of the feet 
 where there was no possible danger of slipping 
 was cast aside. With a man's knees gripping 
 his sides, caution was no more for him ; he 
 tossed his head and defied the trail. I was ob- 
 serving this rather enviously as horse and rider 
 started, when Aunt Matilda called suddenly, 
 " Wait, wait !" Home came cantering back. 
 
 " The Mexican's blanket," she said ; " Felix 
 may take you for an enemy." 
 
 I had brought the poncho home and was 
 bringing it out from the kitchen by the time 
 aunt's explanation was finished. Rome tied it 
 securely to the saddle. 
 
 "That was a mighty good thought, Miss 
 Stanley. You've got too good a head to be
 
 154 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 driven from the country by a lot of low-down 
 sneaks that want the earth for themselves." 
 
 As horse and man clattered out of sight 
 down the trail, a voice from the shadow of the 
 adjoining haystack inquired, " Isn't he good ?" 
 It was Florence, who had been listening quietly 
 to our talk, and had received a large share 
 of enlightenment. 
 
 " I suppose it comes of living in the mount- 
 ains; he's like me, ashamed to be small and 
 mean before them ; not but what I'm all of that, 
 but I am often ashamed of it." 
 
 " It's a pity that their companionship don't 
 affect some others in the same way," I said, 
 thinking of the note we had found in the cabin 
 and of the stampede. 
 
 " As to that," put in Aunt Matilda, pausing, 
 with her hand on the door-knob we had 
 reached the house " it's another illustration 
 of the old saying, ' Except the Lord do build 
 the house, the builders build in vain.' If there's 
 nothing in a person to be brought out, it's a 
 waste of time to fish for it."
 
 A STAMPEDED FLOCK 155 
 
 When we went in father was crouching over 
 the kitchen stove, and in answer to aunt's in- 
 quiry if he were cold, he admitted that he was, 
 decidedly. " It's an uncommonly chilly night, 
 I believe," he added. It was not, but aunt did 
 not say so ; instead, she brought out a bundle 
 of boneset that she had taken pains to procure 
 a few days before, and set a quantity of the 
 leaves to brewing ; presently the pungent, pene- 
 trating odor of boneset tea filled the room. 
 
 " Come to the fire and get warm, girls," father 
 called to us, as we were about going into the 
 next room. 
 
 " I'm not cold," said Florence, going to his 
 side. " Are you cold yet, papa ?" 
 
 "Cold all the way through, Flossie; I'm 
 afraid I'm as unfit for a shepherd physically as 
 I seem to be mentally." 
 
 Florence threw back her head with a burst 
 of soft laughter. " Papa, I'm so sorry that 
 you got so wet and uncomfortable, but I'm 
 just wicked enough to think it was perfectly 
 delightful to see you gazing up into the
 
 156 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 clouds and admiring those small white animals 
 disappearing over the mountain top, when 
 those small white animals were the very 
 things we were there to watch and keep within 
 limits." 
 
 " I'm glad if you can extract any amusement 
 out of it, child," said father ruefully, as he 
 stretched his hands over the stove. " I begin 
 to fear that we will find sheep ranching a far 
 more serious business than we had at first 
 thought it to be." 
 
 " Don't get discouraged, Hugh, over one 
 afternoon's mishaps," aunt advised him cheer- 
 fully. " Come ; here's your tea," she extended 
 a bowl of the unpalatable smelling decoction 
 toward him ; he stretched out his hand for it 
 reluctantly. Father hated medicine, and Flor- 
 ence and I, knowing what a struggle was prob- 
 ably before Aunt Matilda, lingered in the 
 doorway, watching them. It would have been 
 better to go. 
 
 " Stay," cried father, struck with a sudden 
 thought. " Matilda, the girls had better drink
 
 A STAMPEDED FLOCK 157 
 
 that ; they need it more than I, they were wet, 
 too, you know. Elsie, Florence, come and 
 drink this. It's a tonic, a corrective, that you 
 both need." 
 
 " I really I don't feel that I need it to- 
 night, father," I said, edging away, " if Flossie 
 feels that she needs it " 
 
 " I don't ; and it would be selfish to take it 
 from you, father," Florence declared virtuously. 
 
 " As to that ; I made a whole potful. There's 
 enough for you all," said Aunt Matilda. "I 
 think it would be well for you to drink some, 
 too." 
 
 So that was what we got for our curiosity. 
 Father, who must have hoped when he pro- 
 posed our drinking the nauseous mixture, that 
 there was no more of it, and that he would thus 
 escape, watched with sympathetic interest while 
 we gulped down the horrid mess, and then, with 
 a shudder, hastily swallowed his own portion. 
 Vevie, who had been viewing the little comedy 
 with solemn interest, suddenly snatched up a 
 towel and began wiping the feet of the grey-
 
 158 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 hound, who was, as usual, stretched out beside 
 her. 
 
 " There, aunty," she cried, desisting from her 
 labors. " Now Calif won't have to take any of 
 that stuff. He gotted his feet wet, but they 
 are all dry now." 
 
 " Don't worry about him," father counseled 
 her with a groan which seemed but the outward 
 expression of the bitterness he had just swal- 
 lowed. " Any self-respecting dog like Calif 
 would prefer death to boneset tea."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE WHIP-POOR-WILLS 
 
 IN the seclusion of our own room that night 
 I told Florence of what we had heard from 
 Rome as to the difficulties and dangers of sheep 
 ranching in a cattle country. 
 
 " Well, if that is all true, Elsie, he is putting 
 himself into a good deal of danger by siding 
 with us." 
 
 " I suppose he is, Florence ; ne says as much 
 himself. But what can we do ?" 
 
 "We can try not to be cowards, Elsie. We 
 know how much depends on keeping this ranch ; 
 I believe that father's life, as well as our home, 
 depends on it. We must take care of the sheep." 
 
 " It will be a hard task, Flossie, it would be 
 that, even if we knew anything about the busi- 
 ness ; which we don't." 
 
 " We can learn ; here we are, two healthy, 
 active, fairly well-educated girls. Can't we 
 
 159
 
 160 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 learn to care for the sheep, to superintend the 
 shearing, to market the ' clip,' as I heard 
 Rome call it, to look out pasturage, to provide 
 shelter in bad weather, just as well as a lot of 
 ignorant Mexicans?" demanded Florence, 
 whose spirit was aroused. 
 
 " The Mexicans have been bred to the busi- 
 ness for generations," I reminded her feebly. 
 
 "This is an age of progress; I mean to 
 assimilate all the sheep lore of the shepherds in 
 one working season." 
 
 " Where shall we find the shepherd to act as 
 teacher ? We have no really competent author- 
 ity to apply to save Felix." 
 
 " And Rome," she reminded me quietly. 
 
 " Yes, and Rome ; what he doesn't know 
 already he will find out for us in some way if 
 he has to perch on a Mexican's roof to learn it. 
 You make me feel stronger, Flossie ; I had not 
 for a moment thought of giving up, but it is 
 such a comfort to know that you feel as you do 
 about it." We were silent after that, but I 
 knew that her thoughts as well as mine were
 
 THE WHIP-POOR-WILLS 161 
 
 going out prayerfully toward the lost sheep and 
 the wandering shepherd in the wilderness. 
 
 Father was so much worse in the morning that 
 he decided to remain in bed instead of getting 
 up for breakfast and, in the end, he stayed there 
 all day. It was a dismal day. We watched 
 and listened anxiously, hour after hour, from 
 sunrise to sunset for some sight or sound that 
 should tell us how Rome was faring, but no 
 tidings came. Father was made so much worse 
 by the anxiety and uncertainty although he 
 knew nothing of the actual danger in which 
 our friend stood that by nightfall his thin 
 cheeks were flushed with fever. It was in vain 
 that we reminded him of what Rome had said 
 about the difficulty of gathering together a 
 flock of frightened sheep ; and that Rome had 
 said he might be long delayed. I suppose his 
 illness rendered him more nervous than usual, 
 but again, and yet again we saw cause to be 
 thankful for Aunt Matilda's tender foresight in 
 keeping the knowledge of the bitter truth from 
 him. 
 
 11
 
 162 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 Vevie had her share of trials on that unhappy 
 day as well as the rest. To divert her attention 
 from too strict inquiry into the cause of the 
 cloud that, ohviously, hung over the rest of the 
 family, aunt had told her how to make a cake, 
 and father, always singularly watchful of Vevie 
 and all that concerned her, no matter what else 
 he might have in mind, had awakened to a well- 
 simulated interest in the prospective dainty. It 
 was worth while to see the pretty creature's en- 
 thusiasm over the task, the solemnity of her 
 childish face, and the frequent whispered con- 
 sultations with aunt, for the triumph of cookery 
 was to be a secret from Florence and me she 
 would not even pretend to a secret from father 
 and Calif but late in the afternoon she came 
 in from a series of frequent dashes out-of-doors, 
 with a downcast air and quivering lip. 
 
 " What's the matter with my blossom ?" asked 
 father. 
 
 " Not much, papa ; they needn't think I care," 
 nodding her head in defiance of some invisible 
 enemy, " but when I had got the cake all done
 
 THE WHIP-POOR-WILLS 163 
 
 and it looked so nice, I wanted it to get cool quick 
 so I put it out on that big rock and some of 
 those long-tailed birds that are always flying 
 around and making fun of Calif and I, flew 
 down and ate it there was nothing left but 
 crumbs." 
 
 " Nothing left but crumbs ?" repeated father 
 with an involuntary sigh " credit that on the 
 side of experience, my darling; you'll know 
 better than to place your feast within range of a 
 magpie next time." 
 
 Florence and I went out a little after nightfall 
 to listen again for some sound on the upper trail. 
 The stars were shining in a cloudless sky ; 
 seeming very near and large, at that high alti- 
 tude. The swirling rush of the hurrying river 
 was distinctly audible above the long sigh of the 
 night wind that played a never-ceasing melody 
 in pine forests up on the mountain sides. A 
 beautiful, peaceful scene it all made but with an 
 underlying note of melancholy, which became 
 more pronounced as a new sound broke the 
 stillness. A far, faint, lonely call, the evening
 
 164 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 song of the mountain night-hawk, "whip- whip- 
 will, whip-whip-will I" it whistled plaintively. 
 
 "That's different from our Eastern night- 
 hawks," remarked Florence, listening. " Do you 
 notice, Elsie, the Eastern bird says ' whip-poor- 
 will,' but this one doesn't own up to any sym- 
 pathy for Will ; he only insists on his being 
 whipped." 
 
 " How many of them there are to-night, and 
 all in different directions," I said. " It sounds 
 almost as though they were signaling to each 
 other, doesn't it?" 
 
 When we re-entered the house we found father 
 asleep and Aunt Matilda stepping softly to and 
 fro, intent on household tasks, while Vevie sat 
 before the open fire, into which she gazed, appa- 
 rently lost in thought. There was not an evening, 
 even in midsummer, when that cheerful blaze 
 was not welcome. 
 
 " What are you thinking of, Vevie ?" asked 
 Florence. 
 
 " I was wondering what God let us come to 
 this place for," she replied sadly. " I s'pose He
 
 THE WHIP-POOR-WILLS 165 
 
 could have stopped us if He hadn't wanted us 
 to come, but I don't believe He really knew how 
 lonesome it is." 
 
 " Yes He did, Vevie, He has something for us 
 all to do in this valley as well as in the crowded 
 city," Aunt Matilda told her, pausing on her 
 way to the kitchen, with a tray in her hand. 
 
 " But there were peoples to do for, back home, 
 Aunt Mattie," persisted Vevie, " and I don't be- 
 lieve God cares very much for the peoples out 
 here, anyway ; I wouldn't if I was Him !" 
 
 " Why, Vevie, child ! What a speech !" 
 
 " Is it what a speech ?" she asked wistfully. 
 " I didn't mean it to be ; I was thinking of the 
 man that stopped and talked to me to-day, I 
 didn't like him a bit; and Calif growled and 
 growled." 
 
 " What man, who talked with you, child, and 
 where and how?" demanded Aunt Matilda, 
 startled. 
 
 " Down on the footbridge." 
 
 "Vevie, did you go on that shaky bridge 
 with no one in sight ?"
 
 166 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 " Yes, auntie, you didn't tell me not to." 
 
 "No, I didn't; I never thought of such a 
 thing as your going there alone. Why it 
 makes me tremble to think of it !" 
 
 " The man told me I'd better not stand there," 
 Vevie admitted, with her eyes again on the fire, 
 " he said that I would fall in and get drown- 
 ded " 
 
 " Drowned, Vevie," corrected Florence. 
 
 " No ; drownded ; that was what he said ; I 
 guess it's drownded out here then he asked if I 
 wasn't one of the Stanley kids, and I said if you 
 mean, am I Mr. Stanley's little girl ; yes, I am. 
 Then he kind of laughed not a nice laugh, and 
 said, ' Wai, you'd better come offen that bridge, 
 Missy, it's tolerable unsafe, and your folks is 
 going to have considerable trouble ; they'll have 
 enough to keep 'em busy without throwin' in a 
 drownded young one,' I wouldn't have come off 
 the bridge then if it had dropped from under 
 me," the child added, with a sparkle in the 
 brown eyes " I wondered what he meant 
 by saying that my folks was goin' to have
 
 THE WHIP-POOR-WILLS 167 
 
 trouble ; but I wouldn't ask him ; so I just held 
 on to Calif's collar to make him let the man 
 alone, until finally he rode off. I guess I know 
 now, though, what he meant by saying that this 
 wasn't a healthy altitude for a man like papa ; 
 he prob'ly knew that papa got wet and took 
 cold." 
 
 " He might have said that the altitude wasn't 
 healthy," observed Florence, with a firm, 
 straight line cutting across the soft curve of 
 her red lips. " But I am quite sure we will be 
 able to convince him of his mistake, whoever he 
 may be." 
 
 " No ; Flossie, the man was right ; I hope 
 papa will be better to-morrow." 
 
 " I guess he will ; and we must coax him to 
 stay at home with you after this." 
 
 " Yes ; I always take such good care of him," 
 she said, with a tired little yawn. "I did want 
 to hear you sing some to-night, Flossie," she 
 continued, " but I s'pose you are too tired." 
 
 This was so often Florence's excuse for not 
 gratifying poor Vevie, who was passionately
 
 168 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 fond of music, that it was an agreeable surprise 
 when she answered readily though to-night, 
 if ever, she might well have pleaded weariness 
 " I think I've got strength enough for a song 
 or two, Vevie, unless papa is asleep and the 
 singing will disturb him." 
 
 "He is asleep," announced Aunt Matilda, 
 re-entering at this moment with a tray of 
 untouched food, and carefully closing the door 
 after her, " but your singing won't disturb him. 
 You know he never awakes for any unusual 
 noise." 
 
 " Unusual noise !" murmured Florence, taking 
 her seat at the organ and running lightly over 
 the keys. " What shall it be, Vevie ?" 
 
 "That man to-day made me think of the 
 song I want ; only, I can't remember its name," 
 replied Vevie, knitting her baby brows in per- 
 plexity. 
 
 "I shouldn't have thought he'd have re- 
 minded you of anything pleasant," Florence 
 told her. 
 
 " It wasn't anything that he said ; it was what
 
 THE WHIP-POOR-WILLS 169 
 
 he whistled as he was riding away. Wait ! I 
 can whistle it." 
 
 As she could whistle any tune, bird song, or 
 unusual call that she had ever heard we listened 
 with interest to hear what note of the rough 
 stranger had so attracted her attention. Hark ! 
 Was that really the child whistling, or was it 
 the faint, far-heard cry of a night bird in the 
 lonely dusk of the mountain twilight. " Whip- 
 whip-will, whip-whip-will." Florence looked 
 at me, over Vevie's head, with startled eyes, and 
 I recalled the words I had so lately spoken : 
 " It seems almost as though they were signaling 
 to each other." 
 
 " The song you are thinking of is this," said 
 Florence, breaking abruptly into it. Vevie 
 took up the air and whistled a low accompani- 
 ment to " When I hear the first whip-poor- 
 will's song." 
 
 " Now the ' Ninety and Nine/ please," she 
 said as the song ended. 
 
 Florence sang it magnificently, gloriously, as 
 she always does, until she came to the words
 
 170 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 "Away in the mountains, wild and bare, 
 Away from the tender Shepherd's care," 
 
 then she stopped suddenly. Vevie did not ask 
 her to continue ; instead, she went to the window 
 and looked out. " It's a nice night," she said. 
 " I hope Mr. Kome won't get lost in the moun- 
 tains ; I don't s'pose he will ; he told me one 
 day that he knew them real well. He said he 
 could find his way along a trail the darkest 
 night that ever was, just by feeling with his 
 feet. He's got such great big feet ; they'll last 
 a long time. I said to him, when he told me 
 that, that he had got awful nice great feet, and 
 he said he'd have been a good deal taller if there 
 hadn't been so much of him turned up to make 
 them. I told him I should think he'd be glad 
 there was ; he's so tall now. I'm going to kiss 
 papa good-night and go to bed," she concluded 
 abruptly. 
 
 " Don't wake him," Aunt Matilda cautioned 
 her. 
 
 " Oh, no ; I'll kiss him so softly he'll dream it's 
 thistle down drifting over his cheeks, see." She
 
 THE WHIP-POOR-WILLS 171 
 
 caught up a handful of her long fair, misty look- 
 ing hair in each hand, and, spreading her arms out 
 and upward, like a pair of wings, danced lightly 
 across the floor and into the adjoining room. " I 
 didn't wake him," she said, reappearing a mo- 
 ment after. " I'm tired, auntie, I guess I'll rest 
 in your lap a little while." She climbed into 
 Aunt Matilda's lap, and, in less than half a 
 minute was fast asleep with her head pillowed 
 on her aunt's shoulder. Aunt put her to bed 
 and Florence and I soon followed. 
 
 Florence was soon asleep, as I could tell from 
 her regular breathing, but I was too anxious, 
 too much alarmed, and lay awake, finding a new 
 cause of uneasiness in the careless notes that 
 Vevie's rough visitor had accidentally whistled. 
 Was it an accident ? It might be a mere coin- 
 cidence. We knew so little of the mountains. 
 It might be quite the usual thing, so far as we 
 could tell, for a band of night birds to call to 
 each other in the mountain solitudes, but, some- 
 how, the wild notes, coupled with the inexplic- 
 able stampede of the sheep, the ominous letter
 
 172 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 found in the herder's cabin, the desertion of the 
 herders themselves, and the threatening proph- 
 ecy of Vevie's unknown interviewer seemed 
 to have a sinister significance. I tossed from 
 side to side, unable to sleep, longing feverishly 
 for morning. I became aware, too, as the night 
 wore on, that Aunt Matilda was passing an 
 equally restless night. At length, unable to 
 bear the silence longer, I slipped on a wrapper 
 and crept softly into Aunt Matilda's room. She 
 was lying down, although I had so lately heard 
 her moving about. Vevie, who slept with her, 
 was prone to awaken in terror if left alone, so 
 Aunt Matilda said in a whisper : 
 
 "Is that you, Elsie?" 
 
 " Yes ; I cannot sleep." 
 
 " Neither can I ; it's silly, I'm sure to be so 
 distressed ; we'll wear ourselves out for nothing ; 
 it will do Rome no good for us to lie awake, but 
 it's of no use to try to sleep. I can think of 
 nothing else. Oh, I'm so thankful that your 
 father doesn't know he must know, though if 
 we don't get the sheep again ; it will ruin us.
 
 THE WHIP-POOR-WILLS 173 
 
 But there ! I will not worry. God will care 
 for us ; sheep or no sheep." 
 
 " And the stars are so near up here in the 
 mountains ; God doesn't seem very far away," 
 I whispered, going to the window and pushing 
 up the shade as I spoke. The window faced 
 toward the mountain that she and I had so re- 
 cently climbed. It loomed before me, black 
 and vague as to its base, but with the outlines 
 of its crest startlingly distinct against a vivid, 
 lurid glow that revealed the stunted firs and 
 ragged jack oaks fringing its rocky head. Even 
 the jumbled masses of rock were silhouetted in 
 sharp black lines upon the ominous background. 
 I uttered a low exclamation that brought Aunt 
 Matilda to my side. 
 
 " There's a fire over on the other side of the 
 mountain," I whispered. 
 
 " Yes ; it's certainly in the valley where we 
 kept our sheep ; pray God that Rome is safe, 
 whatever becomes of them." 
 
 I thought of the song of the whip-poor-wills, 
 and doubted it.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 ROUNDING UP UNDER DIFFICULTIES 
 
 THE next day Florence and I rode over to 
 the store to inquire of Mr. Davis who knew 
 everybody and where they lived as to where 
 we should go to find a Mexican herder on his 
 native heath ; and while he was giving us 
 minute, but extremely confusing direction as to 
 " draws," " canofis," " blind trails," and " the 
 far side of yon hogback," his daughter Etta, a 
 bright girl of sixteen, came out and joined in 
 the conversation. "Can either of you talk 
 Mexican?" she asked. We were obliged to 
 confess that we could not. The little moun- 
 tain maid laughed as gleefully as Florence her- 
 self might have done had our positions been 
 reversed. " How do you expect to make them 
 understand you, then ?" she demanded. 
 
 " I thought we might come across some one 
 among them who could interpret for us," I said 
 174
 
 ROUNDING UP UNDER DIFFICULTIES 175 
 
 feeling the weakness of the admission, which 
 was a virtual acknowledgment that we expected 
 more of these ignorant people than we could do 
 ourselves. 
 
 " You might ; then again you might not," 
 Miss Etta declared frankly. " I'll tell you how 
 we'll fix it ; I'll go with you ; may I, father ?" 
 The question appeared to be an after- thought ; 
 she was so sure of doing as she pleased in the 
 matter. Mr. Davis scratched his rough head, 
 and displayed a hesitation that evidently 
 amazed his daughter. 
 
 " You won't need me in the store to-day," she 
 reminded him ; " Don is at home, and he's 
 worth two of me any day, you know." 
 
 " No, I don't know it. Of course, you can 
 go if you want to. I am willing to oblige a 
 neighbor, of course." 
 
 " You don't show it very plain to-day," his 
 daughter informed him with perfect candor. 
 
 "Well, I am," the storekeeper insisted. " You 
 don't know everything in the world yet, Etta. 
 But never mind ; you'll learn. Here, Jim,
 
 176 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 saddle up Etta's pony, and be lively ; company's 
 waiting." 
 
 We had met Etta Davis several times. She 
 was a gay, good-hearted girl, seemingly always 
 ready for a frolic. Perhaps she regarded the 
 enterprise that we could not help looking on as 
 little short of tragedy as a kind of frolic, too, 
 for she laughed and chatted as blithely when 
 we rode away from the tenth Mexican house, 
 burdened with the tenth polite refusal to work 
 for us, as when we first started. She was a 
 ready interpreter, and, of course, understood 
 quite well that we were meeting with nothing 
 but disappointment. However, if she felt any 
 sympathy for us she was careful not to put it in 
 evidence. Mr. Davis had suggested that we 
 should call on Roy Jones' wife on our way back 
 from the Mexican settlement. "You'll be 
 riding right by the house, and it won't be noth- 
 ing more than neighborly to drop in," he urged. 
 Florence and I did not feel much inclined for 
 missionary work that day, but as Etta reminded 
 us, on coming in sight of Mr. Jones' cabin, of
 
 BOUNDING UP UNDER DIFFICULTIES 177 
 
 her father's request, we could do no less than 
 dismount and ask admission. The door was 
 opened by Mr. Jones himself. He appeared to 
 be rather backward about asking us in, but the 
 feeble voice of his wife called from the adjoin 
 ing room, "Ain't one o' them that Miss Stanley 
 that sings, Koy ?" 
 
 " Yes, it is," replied the man, eying that Miss 
 Stanley who sang with anything but a welcom- 
 ing expression. 
 
 " Oh, do tell her to come right in ; I want her 
 to sing; I'm so tired, 'pears like I shall die. I 
 want her to sing !" 
 
 There was something hysterical in the 
 plaintive reiteration. The black-browed ranch- 
 man loved his wife. He invited us in with 
 surly courtesy, and Florence sang song after 
 song for the woman who lay listening with 
 closed eyes, her starved soul lifted for the time 
 far above the wearing anguish of her suffering 
 body. Etta Davis even listened without a com- 
 ment, though, as we made a move to go, she 
 observed, " You can sing awful pretty ; I never 
 12
 
 178 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 heard any one sing so good before. I'd be most 
 afraid to have such a nice voice, for fear that 
 something would happen to it." 
 
 " I reckon I'd cry my eyes out if anything 
 should happen to hurt that voice," put in Mrs. 
 Jones, feebly. We parted with Miss Davis at 
 her own door, thanking her warmly for her 
 assistance and offering to pay her, which was as 
 much of a mistake, in its way, as it had been 
 not to offer to pay Mr. Seaton on another occa- 
 sion. Etta drew herself up with an air of 
 offended dignity. " I never thought of such a 
 thing as your paying me," she declared, her 
 cheeks flushing. " I just went to oblige you, 
 and for fun." Florence made a suitable and 
 becoming apology for misunderstanding her, 
 and Etta, appeased, said, " I've had an awful 
 good time. I think you're real good company, 
 both of you, and I'll go with you again to-mor- 
 row if you want me to." 
 
 " Would it be of any use ? Are there any 
 more Mexicans to visit ?" I asked. 
 
 Mr. Davis had drawn near as we rode up,
 
 ROUNDING UP UNDER DIFFICULTIES 179 
 
 and we had already told him where we had 
 been. He replied in his daughter's stead. 
 " There are a few more families in the valley, 
 but it won't do no good to go to them ; you'll 
 only be wasting time. I'll tell you what to 
 do. You want a couple of sheep herders. 
 Well, now, lots of Mexicans come to my store ; 
 that's how Etta here come to talk their lingo. 
 We had to have some one who could do it, and 
 she could be spared as easy as any one," with a 
 humorous glance at the girl, who, conscious of 
 her value, smiled, but said nothing. " You just 
 leave notice here at the store that you want a 
 couple of herders, and they'll all get wind of it 
 before a week's out. Then, if any of them want 
 the job they'll call and see you about it." This 
 was such sensible counsel that we agreed to it at 
 once. And that ended our search for a herder 
 and insured our own initiation into the business, 
 for no one ever came to apply for the "job," as 
 the storekeeper was probably quite confident 
 that they would not. 
 
 In the dusk of the evening, two or three
 
 IftO THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 hours after our return, Rome rode up to the 
 door, tossed the reins of jaded-looking Luck to 
 Johnny, who hastened out to meet him, and 
 strode into the sitting-room to give his report. 
 
 " I got most of 'em," he said briefly. " Yes, 
 they're all right ; jest as right as can be," he 
 continued, as the door of father's room opened 
 and he came out wrapped in his dressing-gown, 
 and with an anxious flush on his cheeks, to hear 
 the report. "There ain't many lost, and we 
 didn't have much trouble ; not any to speak 
 of." He went on at some length, detailing the 
 route he had taken, and leading father to infer 
 that what he had been doing was scarcely more 
 than a little pleasure jaunt. But later, when 
 father, whose cough was troublesome again, had 
 gone to bed, he admitted to us that things were 
 not quite so rose-hued as he would have father 
 believe. 
 
 " We've got 'em corralled up there in that 
 valley again, Felix and me," he said, " and 
 Felix is about as nigh starved to death and 
 worn out as a dog can be and live ; but he'll
 
 ROUNDING UP UNDER DIFFICULTIES 181 
 
 keep them sheep all right to-night. He must 
 have help early in the morning." 
 
 " I will help him," I said in the pause that 
 followed. " I am not afraid, if you are not 
 afraid for me, Rome." It was the first time 
 that I had called him " Rome " to his face, 
 though he was so much to us that we seldom 
 spoke of him in any other way among ourselves. 
 The good fellow embarrassed me by rising from 
 his chair, crossing the room, and grasping my 
 hand. 
 
 " Elsie, you've got something that ain't 
 generally given to women leastways, we don't 
 generally look for it in them. You've got 
 courage, courage, and you need it." He dropped 
 my hand as Florence, coming swiftly to my 
 side, leaned on my shoulder and looked up at 
 him with that sparkling gleam of humor that 
 ran through all her moods like a golden thread. 
 
 " Rome," she said smilingly, " you might 
 squeeze my hand, too ; I'm Elsie's sister, and 
 she hasn't a monopoly of courage ; I'm going 
 with her in the morning."
 
 182 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 " I'm glad to hear it," declared Home, 
 possessing himself of the offered hand. " I 
 reckon you're a pair." He resumed his seat, 
 rud Aunt Matilda looked puzzled at his next 
 question. " Did you ever hear any birds sing- 
 ing early in the evening?" he asked. 
 
 " Yes," returned Florence quickly, " the 
 wh i p-poor- wills." 
 
 " Well, them birds was two-legged and wore 
 whiskers instead of feathers. That night-hawk 
 call was the signal they had given out for col- 
 lecting in the upper valley which they did." 
 There was a dark meaning in Rome's short but 
 significant pause. " I knew that them calls 
 meant mischief," he went on. " You see it ain't 
 the way of night-hawks to mix up in promis- 
 cuous company ; they're a shy bird. Maybe, 
 along in the edge of the evening, you'll hear one, 
 jest as the stars begin to shine out, still and 
 solemn. Beyond the top of old Mount Ken- 
 neth, a single, far-away note'll come stealing 
 down the mountain, for all the world like a 
 voice wandering alone without any body to it ;
 
 ROUNDING UP UNDER DIFFICULTIES 183 
 
 and, later on, the note may be repeated from 
 some other place, say a half-dozen times, but 
 I've lived in the San Coulee going on to ten 
 years and I never yet heard the whip-poor-wills 
 going on as reckless as they did last night ; so, 
 as I said, I was on the lookout for mischief. 
 You see, I had had a whole day to round up the 
 flock before the night-hawks let themselves loose. 
 I found Felix up in the mountains standing 
 guard over a thousand of 'em the first night, 
 and I jest stayed there with him. By nightfall 
 of the second day we had gathered in nearly 
 three thousand, which we were getting back to 
 the valley, when the night-hawks started up. I 
 passed the word to Felix, and we concluded to 
 let the flock look out for themselves for awhile, 
 whilst we looked out for ourselves. I knew it 
 wasn't going to be healthy for me to be found 
 herding them sheep. But it turned out later that 
 Felix wasn't wasting much time in thinking of 
 his health. Him and the horse and me jest set- 
 down where we were and waited. It was so dark 
 up in the cedar patch that no one could see us,
 
 184 THE GIRL RAXCHERS 
 
 and it wasn't long before there was a commotion 
 down in the valley where the sheep were hud- 
 dled. I couldn't make out anything except that 
 they were plumb scared again, scattering in all 
 directions and scurrying away like so many jack 
 rabbits. Whoever 'twas that was after 'em must 
 a made up their minds that they might as well 
 have some of the mutton as for the lions to be 
 getting it all ; at any rate, they opened fire on the 
 fleein' critters. Whether they killed any or not 
 I couldn't tell, but they didn't keep up that game 
 long. I'd had hard work to keep the collie still 
 when thesheep first began to scatter,and when the 
 night-hawks begun firing into 'em, he tore him- 
 self loose from me I was hanging to his collar 
 and launched himself down that mountain 
 and into the gully same's if he was shot out of 
 a cannon. He went right at the night-hawks, 
 regardless, for in a minute I heard some one 
 yell out, ' Look out ! There's a mountain lion !' 
 I've heard that voice before, and another voice 
 that I ain't quite so knowing to, hollered, ' It's 
 a sheep dog ! shoot him ! shoot him !' and he
 
 EOUNDIXG UP UNDER DIFFICULTIES 185 
 
 blazed away at Felix. I reckon I could locate 
 that voice, too, on a pinch, when him and I get 
 ready for the settlement that's coming. But the 
 other voice yelled, ' Let up on that ! Whoever 
 hurts that dog is going to git hurt bad himself, 
 now I tell you.' When I have my reckoning up 
 with them songsters I'll remember that in his 
 favor, too. There wasn't any more firing after 
 that, but Felix didn't come back. I was terrible 
 afraid that he was hurt, but I couldn't do any- 
 thing until it got light enough to see, and then I 
 made him out, standing guard over the little 
 remnant of the flock, like a soldier alone on the 
 battle-ground." 
 
 " And that's the dog that I begrudged pay- 
 ing a hundred dollars for !" murmured Aunt 
 Matilda. "And you stayed in that uncom- 
 fortable place all night," she exclaimed sym- 
 pathetically. 
 
 "No, Miss Stanley, I didn't. Not in that 
 uncomfortable place. I wasn't out looking for 
 comfortable places. I said that I stayed there 
 till it got light enough to see ; it got light
 
 186 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 enough for that long before morning." Into 
 our minds flashed the picture of the wild red 
 glow beyond the mountain top that we had seen 
 last night. Aunt Matilda nodded. "Yes, I 
 understand ; we saw the fire ; go on." 
 
 " When the fire began to make us more visible 
 than I thought was good for us, I took hold of 
 the pony's bridle and sneaked down into the 
 gully where Felix was. I reckoned that the 
 sheep wouldn't be disturbed again that night, 
 because, you see, them that set the fire would 
 want to be getting home and to bed about that 
 time." 
 
 " And the fire ?" 
 
 "It was the cabin where the herders had 
 lived lucky they wasn't in it ; 'twould a' been 
 all the same to them warblers if they had been, 
 I reckon." 
 
 "They mean to drive us out, that's certain," 
 said Aunt Matilda, her face pale with anxiety. 
 
 "Well, they hain't done it yet. Now I'll 
 tell you what to do next. You say you couldn't 
 get no herders ?"
 
 BOUNDING UP UNDER DIFFICULTIES 187 
 
 " No ; we tried to-day so that if we did have 
 any sheep left the shepherd would be ready, but 
 we could not find one." 
 
 " You never will ; give up that idea and 
 buckle down to the next best thing. To-morrow 
 we three will drive the flock out on the plains 
 where they ought to have been taken two 
 months ago. There'll be no chance for whip- 
 poor-wills to creep up on 'em unbeknown out 
 there." 
 
 " See here, Rome," in her earnestness Aunt 
 Matilda laid her hand lightly on the tall moun- 
 taineer's shoulder. " You said that you recog- 
 nized the voices of those men who were down in 
 the gully firing at the sheep ; now if you could 
 swear to their identity " 
 
 Rome shook his head. " No, Miss Stanley. 
 Your idea would be all right back East ; it ain't 
 here. We don't want no swearing to identities. 
 But as long as I know and can threaten 'em 
 with my knowledge, it gives me a kind of hold 
 over 'em. I can make 'em dance to the tune I 
 whistle, and I'm allowing to do considerable
 
 188 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 whistling from this on. Now I must be a get- 
 ting on up to my cabin and tend to some little 
 matters so that I can leave to-morrow. I shall 
 be on hand as soon as it's light enough to see ; 
 I don't want to have the job of collecting them 
 sheep again jest for the sake of a morning
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 ON THE PLAINS 
 
 ROME was as good as his word ; he was on 
 hand before we had finished breakfast next 
 morning, although we were breakfasting by 
 lamp light. Aunt Matilda entreated him to 
 come in and have a cup of coffee, but he declined, 
 on the plea that he had had his breakfast, and 
 " did not want to make any one trouble." It 
 was not the first time that we had had occasion 
 to notice how strongly implanted in his breast 
 was the rustic's shy distaste for personal serv- 
 ice ; or, perhaps it would be more correct to say 
 the solitary's man's dislike to being waited on. 
 
 It was not yet light enough to enable one to 
 distinguish a sheep from a boulder when we 
 mounted our ponies and took the trail for the 
 upper valley. I confess, that notwithstanding I 
 had valiantly declared my readiness on the night 
 before to go to Felix's aid, alone, if need be, 
 
 189
 
 190 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 yet, since my heart was literally in ray mouth 
 at every slight noise, it was infinitely comfort- 
 ing to have this strong, courageous man beside 
 us. From the pallor of Florence's face as it 
 gleamed white against the background of her 
 wide-brimmed hat, I knew that she, too, was 
 suffering tortures of apprehension. 
 
 The ride seemed wild and weird enough of 
 itself at that gray hour, without the added 
 uncertainty as to what we might find when we 
 reached the upper valley. 
 
 Rome rode on ahead in absolute silence, 
 glancing back now and then to make sure that 
 we were following all right. Suddenly the 
 silence was broken by a sharp staccato call, not 
 unlike a high, gurgling laugh. In an instant 
 the call was taken up and repeated from all 
 directions until the dewy aisles of the pine 
 forests seemed to echo and re-echo with peals 
 of mocking laughter. The footfall of Florence's 
 pony, that had been following close behind me, 
 ceased. I glanced back. She had stopped her 
 horse and was crouching half-bent over the
 
 ON THE PLAINS 191 
 
 saddle, staring about her with blanched face and 
 parted lips, a very picture of helpless, unreason- 
 ing terror. Of course I stopped my horse the 
 instant that I perceived her distress, and I 
 suppose Rome missed my following footfall, as 
 I had hers. He looked back inquiringly, then 
 turned and made his way to Florence's side. 
 " I'm afraid you're scared of the boomers, Miss 
 Stanley," he said, laying his big hand with a 
 reassuring touch on the small cold one that was 
 desperately clutching Now Then's bridle ; " I 
 ought to a' told you, but I'm so used to the 
 sassy little rascals that I plumb forgot it. The 
 noise you hear is nothing but the pine squirrels. 
 There's millions of 'em, I reckon, and they're 
 so loud and talk so big, 'long about daylight, 
 that folks has give 'em the name of boomers, 
 same's if they was land site speculators. They've 
 got their circus in full blast now." 
 
 " I think, if you don't mind, Elsie, that I'll 
 ride next to Home," Florence said, quivering. 
 
 " Do, Flossie ; my nerves are stronger than 
 yours."
 
 192 THE GIKL RANCHERS 
 
 "That's all right," Rome assured us, in a 
 very low voice ; " but you'll excuse me if I don't 
 talk much. You, see Felix's nerves is kind of 
 unstrung, too, and he ain't used to your voices, 
 so I thought it best to come on him as gentle as 
 possible. I expect he's strainin' his eyes by this 
 time to see what's comin'." 
 
 " How can that be ?" murmured Florence. 
 " I'm sure that no dog that ever lived could 
 hear or see us at the distance we are now from 
 the valley, and around the shoulder of a moun- 
 tain, at that?" 
 
 It was, by this time, light enough for us to 
 see objects with more or less distinctness. Rome 
 lifted a hand, pointing upward. " See there ?" 
 he said, briefly. There was nothing to see save 
 a couple of small, dingy-looking birds that had 
 been flitting along above the tree-tops in advance 
 of us for the past twenty minutes, clamoring and 
 calling incessantly. The birds were, as I said, 
 small, but their voices were not. 
 
 " That's what you might call a good, compe- 
 tent screech, ain't it?" he whispered, as one of
 
 ON THE PLAINS 193 
 
 them gave out a peculiarly piercing cry. " Well, 
 them birds are what we call camp-robbers. 
 They're sociable little fellers ; always hovering 
 over the trail and yelling their approval I 
 reckon it's approval when a party comes up 
 into the mountains, especially if they come kind 
 of quiet, and the birds think they don't want to 
 be seen." 
 
 "Why do you think that their cries mean that 
 they are glad to have people come ?" I asked. 
 
 "They're kind o' used to seein' folks that come 
 up this way make camp ; making camp means 
 somethi g to eat; something to eat means a feast 
 for Mr. Camp Robber, who will flit around the 
 outskirts of the camp, screechin' and scolding ; 
 afeard there won't be anything left for him if 
 he don't let folks know he's there. Felix knows 
 that there's some one comin',or the birds wouldn't 
 be makin' all this fuss. Follow close and keep 
 still now." 
 
 We came upon Felix sitting quietly at the 
 natural gateway at the entrance to the valley. 
 He greeted us with a somewhat reserved, doubt- 
 13
 
 194 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 ful manner. It appeared to me that he was 
 questioning the propriety of two young girls 
 being abroad in the mountain wilderness at that 
 hour of the morning. The sheep were huddled 
 together, showing, even to us, unmistakable 
 signs of alarm and distress. 
 
 " It's too bad," muttered Rome, as I slipped 
 off Luck's back and laid before Felix the break- 
 fast that I had brought. " It's just too bad that 
 these sheep have been hounded and chased and 
 bamboozled as they have ; it'll take 'em a week 
 to quiet down and get over this scare, even on 
 the outside range ; I misdoubt if they'd do it at 
 all in here now." 
 
 " I don't believe many have been lost, do 
 you?" asked Florence, her eye ranging hope- 
 fully over the broad expanse of woolly backs. 
 
 " Something like two hundred, as near as I 
 make it ; and you'll find that two hundred 
 makes a sizable hole, even in three thousand. 
 Now I reckon Felix is ready, and we'll get 'em 
 in motion." 
 
 Getting them in motion was not at all a
 
 ON THE PLAINS 195 
 
 difficult task ; the difficulty was, rather, in turn- 
 ing the motion in the right direction and keep- 
 ing it there. It was in the way that he did this, 
 and the intelligence and discrimination that he 
 showed in doing it, that my admiration for 
 Felix grew apace, until I was more than half in- 
 clined to agree with Vevie in her oft-expressed 
 opinion of the greyhound : " Calif knows just as 
 much as I do, only he won't talk about it," she 
 would declare, earnestly. " Sometimes he knows 
 more, for he knows enough to keep still when 
 that's the best thing to do." 
 
 But, after all, it was not very high praise of 
 the shaggy, faithful collie to say that he knew 
 more about the sheep business than I did. 
 
 Down into the lower valley we filed at length, 
 some two hours after the start from the upper 
 one, and along the roadway past our cottage, 
 where father, Aunt Matilda, Vevie, Calif, and 
 Johnny witnessed the exodus with much in- 
 terest. We kept on through the length of the 
 valley, over the bridge successor to the one 
 that had been washed out behind us on the day
 
 106 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 of our entrance into the valley up the moun- 
 tain road and so out upon the plains, where the 
 abundant herbage so tempted the half-starved 
 creatures that it became almost impossible to 
 urge them along. 
 
 " We must get 'em nigh enough to the corral, 
 over yon on the San Coulee," Kome said, point- 
 ing to a large enclosure on the river bank, 
 " so that we can drive 'em in there and get the 
 gate closed and locked by sundown ; they won't 
 be so ravenous after a day or two." 
 
 As we slowly approached to within a half 
 mile or less of the big corral, we allowed the 
 sheep to scatter out and graze at will, then 
 Rome took off his hat and wiped his streaming 
 face with a look of intense relief. 
 
 "Tin thankful that's done!" he ejaculated. 
 " I don't know when I've been feelin' more 
 nervous 'bout a thing. I don't mind sayin' to 
 you now that I have been havin' my doubts 
 about our gettin' here unmolested; we never 
 should had it not been that the two prettiest 
 girls in Coulee were drivin' the flock."
 
 ON THE PLAINS 197 
 
 " I'll try to forgive you for making fun of 
 our looks, Rome, if you'll tell me why you say 
 that," I replied. 
 
 " Why, you don't for a minute s'pose, do you, 
 that them songful night birds that run the sheep 
 off before don't know what's goin' on to-day ? 
 They know just as well as we do. And they 
 ain't right well pleased, either. You see," he 
 continued, drawing nearer to me, for he seemed 
 to regard me as the active working partner in 
 the sheep business, " there's a short cut from 
 the upper Coulee through the Wind River range 
 down into Wyoming, and whenever a herd, 
 either of cattle, horses, or sheep is stampeded in 
 the Coulee valleys stampeded purposely, like 
 this one was why, it's easy to keep the scat- 
 tered bands kind of drifting toward the pass 
 where they'll all come together again where they 
 can be rushed down into the south and sold 
 if any one wants to take the risk of buyin' stolen 
 herds, and lots of fellows do especially sheep. 
 Sheep ain't so easy identified as cattle they 
 can be turned over to some dealer who is too
 
 198 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 obliging to ask questions. He claps another 
 brand on over the one he finds already on cat- 
 tle or horses, and gives a new cut to the crop 
 ear of a sheep, and he's all right. He can swear 
 to his own brand if any questions are ever 
 asked, which they most gen'lly are not. Now, 
 seein' that we've got the flock out here, if they 
 want to run it off again into Southern Colorado 
 or New Mexico they've got to drive them back 
 again through the same valley that we've took 
 'em out of. They won't feel like doing that for 
 awhile yet. So I reckon our travels are over 
 with for the time being, but there's another big 
 job on hand I s'pose you know." 
 
 " You mean watching the flock ?" I asked 
 doubtfully. 
 
 " No ; that's settled. You two can watch it ; 
 though I ain't saying that it's going to be fun 
 for you. The thing that you can't do is to 
 shear the sheep; and it ought to be done just as 
 quick as they get a little over this scare. It 
 ought to have been done a month ago ; yes, a 
 week before they ever came into your hands ;
 
 ON THE PLAINS 199 
 
 but now, every day that you lose decreases the 
 value of the clip and makes it just so much 
 harder for the critters themselves. But we won't 
 worry about that till we have to. The thing to do 
 now is to get hold of a lot of Mexicans, app'int 
 a day for the shearin', and see that it's done." 
 
 " If the shearers are no easier to find than the 
 herders, I don't see what we are to do," I said 
 sadly enough. 
 
 " It's goin' to be an uphill job ; I ain't doubt- 
 in' that ; but you've had worry enough for one 
 day. Let's talk of something besides sheep for 
 awhile." As he seemed to think that we were 
 quite up to his own cheerful philosophy of dis- 
 missing a troublesome subject when no good 
 could be achieved by discussing it, we tried to 
 comply, but I know that through my mind 
 there trooped nothing but long processions of 
 impossible Mexicans armed with sheep shears. 
 
 "You'll have a nice healthy gallop home 
 every night," Rome went on cheerfully. " I 
 bet you your cheeks'll be brown enough before 
 the summer's over."
 
 200 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 " It's a good ways from home," I said thought- 
 fully. 
 
 " Not so very far ; the road is so good that 
 you can make twice the time over it that you 
 could in gettin' to the upper Coulee." 
 
 " It's a lovely bicycle road," observed Flor- 
 ence, wistfully. 
 
 Rome was riding the buckskin that day he 
 had no horse of his own. He flecked the 
 broncho's shoulder absently with the tip of his 
 heavy quirt as he said : "I seen one of them 
 beesickles one day ; a man down to Carston had 
 one. He was ridin' it, kind o' humped up, like 
 a grasshopper gettin' ready to jump, and the 
 sweat was pourin' off of him prodigious. Looked 
 to me like he had to pay for all the riding he 
 got. I like bronchos better myself." 
 
 We had dismounted and were loitering along 
 by the side of our grazing horses as we talked. 
 Rome began telling us of that " prospect " of 
 his. He appeared to have high hopes of it. 
 " I've been looking into it and I find that I can 
 get water around to the mouth of the mine from
 
 ON THE PLAINS 201 
 
 the Coulee by a little work, well, by a good deal 
 of work, for it's goin' to take some blasting 
 and a power of dynamite, but it can be done, 
 and when it is Rome Beaumont ain't a poor 
 man any longer. I've been carryin' the placer 
 sand as I dug it out, to the river before this, 
 and it's slow work ; there'll be a change when 
 old Coulee sends a stream sparklin' past the 
 door of my cabin." 
 
 " Are you so anxious to get rich, Rome ?" 
 " Not a bit ; I care more for it now than ever 
 I did in my life before, though. Folks is queer 
 about riches. Now, look at me ; I've got good 
 health, good eyes, ears, and feet look at 'em " 
 he glanced down at the members in question 
 with a humorous twinkle " seem a good deal 
 like a pair of them Kentucky push-boats, don't 
 they? but all the gold between here and the 
 Pacific Ocean couldn't buy me another pair as 
 good if anything was to happen to these. So I 
 can't help feelin' that I'm pretty rich already, 
 but that prospect of mine'll jest be pavin' the 
 way for something that this kind of riches
 
 202 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 couldn't bring me, that's all. Cuidado ! Felix ! 
 Say, what you thinking of?" 
 
 " I'm going to teach Felix English," I in- 
 formed him, as Felix, thus reminded of his duty, 
 promptly brought up a half-dozen laggards. 
 
 "Are you? Poor little feller! I bet his 
 head'll ache worse'n ever his feet have after 
 ranging the hills all day in search of a stam- 
 peded flock. I know mine would if I had to 
 learn it right." 
 
 Late in the afternoon our charges were cor- 
 ralled within the high-walled enclosure not far 
 from the river bank, and, discovering that a 
 snug little kennel had been built close outside 
 for Felix, we left him on guard and rode home- 
 ward in the gathering dusk.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 AN ODD ACQUAINTANCE 
 
 ROME proved a true prophet. The aggressive 
 cattlemen, baffled in their first attempt to scat- 
 ter our flock, molested us no more. Day after 
 day passed, and we could find in the whole 
 length and breadth of the Coulee country no 
 man, white, black, or brown, willing to under- 
 take, for love or money, the task of herding our 
 sheep ; more than that, and infinitely worse, we 
 could find no shearers. 
 
 Rome was our stronghold and defense in that 
 time of need. He conscientiously gave to Flor- 
 ence and me the credit of " holding down the 
 ranch," as he expressed it, but we all knew that 
 without his unselfish aid all our efforts to " hold 
 it down " would have been useless. We dared 
 not appeal to him or accept of his freely-prof- 
 fered services oftener than was absolutely nec- 
 essary, not only for the sake of his own safety, 
 
 203
 
 204 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 but because he would accept no payment for 
 anything that he did. Aunt Matilda ventured 
 to broach the subject to him once, and he ap- 
 peared so deeply hurt that she never had the 
 courage to mention it again. 
 
 The change of climate proved very beneficial 
 to father, but every indiscretion or exposure was 
 pretty sure to bring on an acute reminder that 
 he must take no liberties with his precarious 
 health. No change of climate, however, could 
 efface the memory of Donald Arleigh's treachery; 
 Donald, the practical, to whom the dreamy, 
 silent inventor looked as to another, and possi- 
 bly, a more masterful self, who would demon- 
 strate the value of those pursuits to which he 
 had dedicated his life, and for which his life had, 
 as far as he could judge by tangible results, been 
 wasted. Instead of this sad ending, if Donald had 
 been true, the world would have been his willing 
 debtor. In losing him, he was doubly, trebly 
 wounded, in his love, his ambition, and his pride. 
 Into the life of this hurt, but patient recluse, 
 came Rome, with his cheery good fellowship, his
 
 AN ODD ACQUAINTANCE 205 
 
 loyal friendliness, his unfailing interest in those 
 about him, and his presence was as balm to 
 father's sore heart. His sad eyes brightened, 
 the hopeful tone gradually returned to his con- 
 versation ; his faith in humanity slowly reas- 
 serted itself, and in the same ratio, his health 
 improved. Donald was not forgotten, but the 
 whole world was no longer false because one 
 beloved had fallen short of his expectations. 
 He was never prone to look much into details, 
 and since we assured him that it was best for us 
 to attend to the sheep herding, he believed it, 
 and let it go at that. At first we were in some 
 fear lest he should again offer his services, but 
 his first attempt had been such a dismal failure 
 that he had not the courage to repeat it. He 
 believed the stampede and all the subsequent 
 trouble to have been the direct result of his own 
 heedlessness, and, of course, we could not tell 
 him otherwise. 
 
 The long, lonely days on the range passed 
 uneventfully. Florence and I settled down to 
 the conviction that there was no one to help us in
 
 206 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 the herding, but oh, the shearing ! the shearing! 
 To lose the clip was to lose that for which the 
 sheep were kept. And we could find no shearers. 
 
 Florence, who, in the pleasant, idle days that 
 we spent in our Eastern home, would never go 
 very far out of her way to help another, now 
 realized fully the importance of all connected 
 with our daily task. I recall especially the 
 close of one rainy day when we came galloping 
 home with the raindrops beating in our faces 
 and the wild, sweet mountain wind tossing our 
 loosened hair like silken streamers. Father 
 stood on the little porch watching for us, and 
 he burst out vehemently as we drew rein before 
 him, " This is an outrage, nothing less than an 
 outrage, that two young girls like you should 
 be compelled to do work that obliges you to ex- 
 pose yourselves like this. We will sell the sheep 
 if no one but you can be found to watch them." 
 
 Florence is much more ready of speech than 
 I; she has her arguments all ready while I am 
 slowly marshalling the words to clothe mine in, 
 and I always have a depressing sense that they
 
 AN ODD ACQUAINTANCE 207 
 
 don't half fill out their clothes at that. Brush- 
 ing the hair from her damp cheeks, she sprang 
 from the saddle and ran into the house, saying : 
 
 " Come in, papa ; I want to talk that over 
 with you." 
 
 She began as soon as we entered the house, 
 the house that could never seem otherwise than 
 cozy and warm as long as Aunt Matilda pre- 
 sided over it and father and Vevie awaited us. 
 " Father," began Florence, turning her bright 
 face, flushed with rain and sparkling with 
 health, toward him, " this work that you think 
 it such an outrage for us to do is good for me ; 
 I need it. Elsie never needed such discipline. 
 She was always good enough without under- 
 going any experience to make her better ; but I 
 never was very good, and you all know it. These 
 long, still days on the range for, of course, 
 Elsie and I are seldom together except when we 
 round up at night are giving me a chance to 
 get acquainted with myself. Why, papa, I am 
 growing ! I have never had a chance to grow 
 before ; all the things that I had in life, all that
 
 208 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 I loved or hoped for, was for something that 
 should redound to the benefit or glory of Flor- 
 ence Florence, the selfish, ungrateful little 
 wretch ! Well, there, papa, I won't abuse her ; 
 you love her, and it makes you uncomfortable 
 to hear the truth about her ; but I know it now. 
 I begin to see that there is something else in 
 the world. I think it's good for me to get away 
 for awhile from the crowding, the hurry, and 
 the self-centered thoughts of civilization. I'm 
 getting acquainted with myself, with my soul 
 out here a pretty small one, it's true, ' a poor 
 thing, but mine own.' " 
 
 Father was silent a long time after she ceased 
 speaking. He glanced out of the window and 
 up at the heights that the misty night was fast 
 oblitering, with a far-off, seeking expression ; 
 finally, " You may be right," he said. " I re- 
 member that the Bible tells us that when God 
 desired to fit a man to become the leader of His 
 chosen people, He sent him, not into the crowded 
 city for an education, but into the wilderness." 
 
 However, I who seldom soar above the com-
 
 AN ODD ACQUAINTANCE 209 
 
 monplace, became so skilled a shepherdess that, 
 in the course of two or three weeks, I often took 
 entire charge of the flock for days at a time, 
 thus leaving Florence free to make a better use 
 of her time, and to keep up the music that father 
 and Mrs. Jones, for Florence continued to 
 visit her delighted in. Musicians were natur- 
 ally scarce in San Coulee and the fame of Flor- 
 ence's singing and playing gradually spread 
 abroad. She was wont to accuse herself of self- 
 ishness in leaving me to take the burden of the 
 range work so entirely on my own shoulders, 
 but, as it turned out, she was doing good service, 
 even when she least realized it. Why is it, I 
 wonder, that people are so prone to believe that 
 the path of duty is always set with thorns? 
 Because she loved to paint and sing, and could 
 do both so well, her conscience, being rather 
 aggressively active since this life of solitary self- 
 communing began, troubled her, insinuating 
 that, since she loved these occupations and did 
 not really love the role of shepherdess, the latter 
 was the thing that she should devote herself to. 
 14
 
 210 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 It took a great many arguments to convince her 
 that there would be no harm in giving a portion 
 of her time to each. 
 
 Father and Vevie, accompanied always by 
 Calif, spent a good deal of time in wandering 
 over the hills. They were industriously making 
 a collection of the wild flowers of the region, 
 and also of various kinds of clay, good, bad, 
 and indifferent, with which father experimented 
 impartially, leaving a trail of clay on every- 
 thing that he touched, and, seemingly, touching 
 everything in the house, for the evidence of 
 his work spoke on every hand. Coming home 
 from their rambles they occasionally met an 
 Indian, or Indians, strays from the Red Cliff 
 Agency on the other side of Mount Kenneth, 
 the white crest of which signaled the traveler 
 for a hundred miles away. I doubt if any one 
 of us would ever have thought of visiting the 
 Agency, however, had it not been for the chance 
 acquaintance that father and Vevie made during 
 one of their walks with old Running Wolf. He 
 was a grim yet amiable savage whom they over-
 
 AN ODD ACQUAINTANCE 211 
 
 took as they were hurrying home, rather late, 
 one evening, laden as usual with the spoils of 
 the forest in the form of roots, blossoms, and 
 knobby chunks of clay and colored ochre. It 
 was rather startling, as a first experience, and 
 in the twilight to come upon a bronzed old 
 warrior in the mountain wilds, but, after an in- 
 voluntary pause, during which Vevie clung 
 tightly to his hand, and Califs shining eyes 
 began to gleam ominously, father quickened his 
 steps and overtook the Indian saying, in white 
 man's fashion, " Good evening, sir." 
 
 " Ugh, ugh ! white man," grunted the Indian, 
 and although he stepped aside to give them 
 room to pass on the narrow trail, it was not re- 
 assuring to observe that he gave, what seemed 
 to father, unmistakable signs of having indulged 
 too freely in liquor ; yet he was a pitiful figure, 
 too, old, far from home, alone in the shades of 
 coming night. If father had not been in the 
 habit of looking below the surface of things, he 
 would not have seen and thought of all this ; 
 and our attempts to conduct a successful sheep
 
 212 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 ranch in San Coulee would have ended in dis- 
 aster. Instead of passing on, he stopped and 
 looked at the Indian, who, waiting patiently for 
 him to proceed, minded his scrutiny as much, 
 and no more, than he would that of a rabbit. 
 
 " You are tired and a long way from home, I 
 see," father remarked at last, " and I doubt if 
 you can go much further," which was intended 
 as a gentle reminder that he had been drinking 
 overmuch, but the Indian took it differently. 
 
 " Lame," he said, laconically, pointing to his 
 left foot which was clumsily bandaged. "Slip 
 on trail away yond', rock roll on foot, smash," 
 he explained with no waste of words but with 
 sufficient clearness. 
 
 " Where are you going ?" 
 
 The Indian glanced up to where the rose-col- 
 ored pennons and clouds of snow danced along 
 the crest of Kenneth. These, driven from the 
 snow-fields by the fierce wind that sprang up 
 with the going down of the sun, were already 
 streaming along in weird procession. Then he 
 said, stoically, " Reservation."
 
 AN ODD ACQUAINTANCE 213 
 
 " The Reservation !" father echoed. " With 
 your lame foot? Why, man it's twenty-five 
 miles to the Reservation ! Thirty-five miles by 
 Agency road ; twelve miles less over the moun- 
 tain. Do you mean that you intend to cross 
 the mountain to-night?" 
 
 " Got to. No camp, no fire ; no eat ; got to," 
 the Indian replied, with dogged patience. 
 
 " You come home with me, and I'll see about 
 all that, and look after that wounded foot into 
 the bargain," replied father, walking forward 
 with Vevie's hand in his, and Calif, contrary to 
 his wont at times, made no objections to the pro- 
 ceedings, but followed sedately behind the In- 
 dian, who hobbled painfully along in father's 
 wake. 
 
 Florence was at home that day. When 
 they reached the house and father stopped on 
 the threshold she was playing and singing. The 
 Indian, just at father's back, laid his hand sud- 
 denly on his shoulder, compelling him to pause, 
 while he thrust his copper-colored face close to 
 father's, gazing at the singer steadfastly, bre'ath-
 
 214 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 lessly, as though spellbound, as, indeed, he was. 
 Fortunately Florence did not see the strange, 
 wild face, with its glinting black eyes, regard- 
 ing her with such fascinated interest. If she 
 had, I dare say she would have screamed, and 
 thereby wrecked our fortunes, for Running 
 Wolf, as we presently found his name to be, was 
 as sensitive as any other shy, half-tamed creature 
 of the mountains. When the last ringing notes 
 of the song died away father stepped forward. 
 He understood and liked poor old Running 
 Wolf from that moment. 
 
 " Flossie," he said, " I've brought you and Ma- 
 tilda a patient." He threw the door wide open, 
 so that the red light of sunset lit up Running 
 Wolf in all his barbaric ugliness. " His foot is 
 hurt, and he needs attention," he continued. 
 
 When I came home an hour later his foot had 
 been carefully dressed, he had been fed, and was 
 lying on a pile of blankets before the fireplace, 
 sleepily blinking at the genial warmth of the 
 fire that was seldom allowed to die out on our 
 hearth.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 A WILD RIDE 
 
 WHEN we became somewhat accustomed to 
 the range work it did not so completely ab- 
 sorb all of our thoughts, although it certainly 
 did occupy all of the time of one or the other 
 of us. As our own anxieties became a trifle 
 less overwhelming we were able to take some 
 interest in our neighbors, neighbors still, even 
 if they were disposed to have none of us. 
 Aunt Matilda not only discovered that the 
 wife of our morose friend, Roy Jones, was 
 sick, but she promptly made Mrs. Jones her 
 particular charge, so that it was not unusual 
 especially before aunt became the fairly good 
 horsewoman that she did in time for Florence 
 or me to find on returning from our day's work 
 on the range, that she had an errand for one or 
 the other of us in behalf of Mrs. Jones. These 
 errands took the form of a late ride over to the 
 
 215
 
 216 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 Jones's residence oftener than was pleasant for 
 a tired sheep herder, but I hope that it was 
 partly good feeling, as well as a recognition of 
 the fact that it was well for us to place any 
 cattleman under a debt of obligation to us 
 whenever the opportunity offered, that made us 
 refrain from making any objections to these 
 supplementary rides. 
 
 As a matter of fact it was usually I who took 
 them if they came late, because I was supposed 
 to be much more courageous than Florence, and 
 it was on account of my being credited with so 
 much courage that Aunt Matilda said to me 
 one evening about nine o'clock, " Elsie, I de- 
 clare, I'm most ashamed to ask it of you, but I 
 just wish you would go and take this basket of 
 grapes over to Mrs. Jones. You wouldn't be 
 afraid to go, would you." 
 
 " No." 
 
 "You see," aunt continued in explanation, 
 " Mrs. Jones wasn't quite so well when I was 
 over there day before yesterday ; she was long- 
 ing for some fruit, so I went over to the store
 
 A WILD RIDE 217 
 
 and asked Mr. Davis to have some grapes sent 
 up from Carstou first chance he got. They 
 came late this afternoon, and I've been waiting 
 all the evening hoping that E-ome would call 
 and take them around for us, but I guess he 
 isn't coming to-night. Of course Mrs. Jones 
 can wait if you don't feel like going." 
 
 "I'll go, Aunt Matilda. Johnny," I con- 
 tinued turning to the motionless figure that 
 always established itself safely in the chimney 
 corner with the coming of night and darkness, 
 " please go and saddle Chris for me." 
 
 Johnny arose obediently, but paused on the 
 threshold. " Better take Luck," he said. 
 
 " No ; Luck is tired. I'll take Chris." 
 
 " I'm afraid Luck's little rider is tired, too," 
 father interposed, with an affectionate glance at 
 me. "Isn't it asking a good deal of Elsie, 
 Mattie, to ask her to add a six-mile ride late in 
 the evening to what she has already done ?" 
 
 " I don't mind it at all," I hastened to say, 
 seeing a look of concern on aunt's face. " It does 
 not follow that I ana tired because my horse
 
 218 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 is ; I have only had to sit 011 his back and "be 
 carried around." But I did not tell them that 
 I had no notion of taking a six mile ride when 
 the errand could be done by going three. I 
 knew that there would be an outcry if they sus- 
 pected my intention of making use of the trail 
 through the canon. 
 
 Although late in the evening late for us 
 sober valley folk it was not very dark, a 
 crescent moon hung low in the west, and it was 
 by its doubtful light that I caught a glimpse of 
 Florence's anxious face, as she came noiselessly 
 to my side after Johnny had brought Chris up 
 to the horse block in front of the cottage, and I 
 was seated in the saddle with the basket of 
 grapes across' my lap. 
 
 " Elsie," she whispered, " I wish aunt hadn't 
 asked you to go ; it's so dark " 
 
 "Not at all dark, Florence, when one gets 
 used to being out." 
 
 " Well ; suppose you were to meet some one, 
 or something, on the road? I just wish you 
 would take this." " This " was a big revolver
 
 A WILD RIDE 219 
 
 that had been left in the cottage from the time 
 of the Seaton occupancy. 
 
 " Do you mean, Flossie, that if I meet any 
 one you would like to have me shoot them ?" 
 
 " You know what I mean," she retorted, with 
 a vexed laugh. " Do take it." 
 
 " No ; you know very well that I couldn't hit 
 the side of a house if one should attack me. I'll 
 have to trust to luck or rather to Chris." 
 
 " Don't stay a minute later than you must," 
 she persisted, as I touched the shoulder of the 
 yellow broncho, who responded by breaking 
 into a trot that racked every bone in my body. 
 It was in vain that I tried to induce him to lope. 
 His repertoire consisted, apparently, of a walk 
 and a trot alone. 
 
 Trees and shrubs were nothing more than 
 mere vague outlines, black shadows, peopled 
 with all sorts of dreadful possibilities in the 
 way of wild animals, when we began to descend 
 the rocky and difficult slope along which the 
 trail that formed a short cut between the Jones 
 ranch and the rest of the valley wound in
 
 220 THE GIKL RANCHERS 
 
 tortuous course. Chris's slow walk became even 
 slower as lie picked his unwilling way down into 
 the depths whose dense shadows the scant moon- 
 light did not penetrate. It was very quiet. 
 Only Chris's footfall, or the rattling of a pebble 
 displaced by his step and sliding away down the 
 slope, and the weird, uncanny voice of the water 
 as it seemed, in the darkness, to pause and listen, 
 and then to hurry on the faster for its brief stay, 
 broke the intense silence. I was not afraid, yet 
 it was a relief when we emerged safely from the 
 canon to find that the lights of the Jones resi- 
 dence were shining before us. There was neither 
 fence nor gate in front of the dreary little cabin 
 of the cattleman, and so I rode close to the door, 
 tapping upon it with the toe of my boot, for 
 want of a free hand. It was promptly opened, 
 and Mr. Jones himself relieved me of my load. 
 I declined his invitation to alight on the score 
 of the lateness of the hour, and he admitted : 
 
 " It is ruther late. Some gals would be afraid 
 t' ride 'round alone along the road so late in the 
 evening."
 
 A WILD RIDE 221 
 
 " I wouldn't be afraid to ride along the road ; 
 but it is so much further that way that I came 
 through the canon." 
 
 "Through the canon ! Did ye? Wai' I 
 swan ! Ye've got a consid'able pluck. Goin' 
 back that-a-way ?" 
 
 " Yes ; if my horse could find the way here I 
 guess he'll find the way back all right." 
 
 " It ain't a matter of a hoss' findin' his way, 
 altogether," Mr. Jones insisted, and then he 
 added politely : " Tell Miss Stanley that my 
 wife is much obleeged for the grapes. She's 
 gittin' real sot on Miss Stanley, my wife is." 
 Leaving my messages and inquiring for the in- 
 valid I again turned my horse's head toward 
 the canon, but Mr. Jones's remark, " It ain't a 
 matter of a hoss' findin' his way, altogether," 
 seemed, as we again dropped down into the 
 shadows, to have a sinister significance. I 
 knew that hunters told some wild stories of this 
 particular canon a mere savage rent in the 
 high mountains flanking the northern side of 
 the valley which, broadening and deepening
 
 222 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 as it neared the plains, became a formidable 
 obstacle to travel. According to these disquiet- 
 ing legends its pecularity was that it afforded 
 beasts of prey a safe runway from their moun- 
 tain fastnesses to the plains, where they might 
 gratify their taste for beef or mutton, whichever 
 came handiest, and return to the mountains 
 secure from molestation. 
 
 I had the carelessness of ignorance so far as 
 any fear of wild animals went, still, it was any- 
 thing but pleasant at that hour of the night, to 
 find myself involuntarily recalling some of those 
 stories. It was in vain that I resolutely told 
 myself I would not think of such things. I 
 could think of nothing else and was in the 
 midst of a most thrilling recollection when 
 Chris suddenly stopped. Chris was staring, as 
 though fascinated, at the low branches of a 
 spreading oak that overhung the trail a few 
 yards in front, and was trembling as with an 
 ague. If it had been Luck, cowering and cring- 
 ing under me, I should have been terribly 
 frightened, but I had so poor an opinion of
 
 A WILD RIDE 223 
 
 Chris's intelligence that, after the first start of 
 alarm, I was not greatly concerned. Chris was 
 never reliable, and Rome, who had ridden him 
 more than any of us, declared that the horse 
 saw ghosts. He could account for the little 
 broncho's unreasonable fits of terror on no other 
 ground, so now I struck him sharply with the 
 riding whip, urging him forward. Instead of 
 obeying, he literally sat down upon his 
 haunches, like a dog. I was sure that he would 
 have howled if he could, and sure, also, that he 
 was looking at something as yet invisible to me. 
 I bent forward, studying the oak tree with in- 
 quiring eyes and presently I made out a curious 
 phenomenon. Something was hanging sus- 
 pended from one of the lower limbs of the oak ; 
 something with a thick-set, tapering body, that 
 was writhing and twisting slowly with a half 
 circular motion. I naturally thought of snakes, 
 and then remembered that there were no snakes 
 in the valley ; at least that was what the people 
 told us. 
 
 Straining my eyes, I looked up into the dense
 
 224 THE GIKL EANCHEES 
 
 foliage of the tree, following the swaying thing 
 that was not a snake. I made out a long, lithe, 
 indistinct shape crouching motionless, save for 
 the tail, along the length of the oak limb, and a 
 pair of yellow eyes glared down into mine like 
 two points of flames. I had never before seen 
 a mountain lion but I knew, beyond the shadow 
 of a doubt, that I saw one now. The knowl- 
 edge seemed, for the time being, to deprive me 
 of my senses ; if I had studied to do the worst 
 thing possible I do not see how I could have 
 succeeded better. Raising my whip I struck 
 frantically in the direction of those gleaming 
 eyes. The crazed, aimless blows fell sharply 
 across the face of the broncho, who, roused into 
 action whirled more swiftly than he had ever 
 before moved in his life, gave one long leap on 
 the backward trail, and flung me headlong to 
 the ground. If I had been less unnerved by 
 terror I should not have been unseated ; as it 
 was, I lay on the ground, under the oak, stunned, 
 but yet, not wholly unconscious, for I heard and 
 recognized the clatter of Chris's flying hoofs as
 
 A WILD RIDE 225 
 
 he scattered a shower of loose shingle in his mad 
 flight from the canon, but the recognition was 
 too faint to concern me much. I suppose that 
 I really was benumbed with terror rather than 
 actually stunned, for I knew when something 
 fell with a soft, heavy thud beside me, knew 
 when it stood over me and glared into my face 
 with those two points of yellow flame so close to 
 my own half-closed eyes that their vivid rays 
 seemed to scorch and burn, while the hot, heavy 
 breath sent a fetid blast into my face, but I did 
 not move, and the merciful trance of terror 
 probably saved my life. 
 
 Hunters say that lions will not, for the mere 
 pleasure of the thing, rend any creature that 
 they believe to be dead. A cat, discovering a 
 dead mouse, will dine off it daintily, but unless 
 she is a kitten, and, therefore, frivolous, she dis- 
 dains to play with it. Probably my lion was 
 not, just then, pressed by hunger. I even think 
 that but for the accident of Chris's throwing me 
 I might have passed safely under the oak limb. 
 The creature walked around and around me as 
 15
 
 226 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 I lay prone on the ground. The night wind 
 was beginning to sweep fitfully down its accus- 
 tomed path from the mountains to the plains ; 
 a stray gust caught and fluttered the skirt of my 
 dress, and the lion, halting instantly in its slink- 
 ing promenade, laid a heavy paw upon the fab- 
 ric, while its fierce eyes again sought my face. 
 As I made no movement it withdrew a few 
 steps, occasionally giving vent to a low growl. 
 Finally it stretched itself upon the ground in 
 a position favorable for watching, and lay there 
 as still as the immovable rocks around us. 
 Minutes passed how many I could not know, 
 but so many that I had time to wonder, in a half 
 paralyzed, impersonal way, how long it would 
 take a person to die of fright, for it did not 
 occur to me to make any effort to save myself; 
 I only hoped, dimly, that I might die before the 
 lion attacked me. Suddenly there was again a 
 sound of hurrying hoofs, and a big voice 
 the voice of Roy Jones now neither sullen 
 or reserved shouted my name, " Elsie ! 
 Hel lo oo ! he 11 oo ! Elsie!" The lion,
 
 A WILD RIDE 227 
 
 springing up, stood its ground uncertainly for 
 an instant, but the cat-like habit of caution pre- 
 vailed, and it slunk noiselessly back into the 
 shadow of the oak. In a second more Chris, 
 unwilling, terrified, and going at a rate that no 
 one familiar with his previous record would be- 
 lieve possible, burst into view, bearing Roy 
 Jones on his back. Chris sprang aside, snort- 
 ing and trembling again at sight of me lying 
 beside the trail, and Mr. Jones leaped from the 
 saddle and hastened to my side. He knelt 
 down, lifting me up with an arm like that 
 of a prize-fighter. "I swan! I hope you 
 ain't killed, Miss Stanley !" he ejaculated, fer- 
 vently. " What's happened ? Horse throwed 
 ye?" 
 
 I sat up, pushing the hair back from my 
 face. " Where did the lion go ?" I asked, stu- 
 pidly. 
 
 " The lion ? Hey, that's it, is it ?" 
 " Yes," I said ; " and it went under that tree." 
 Mr. Jones, still supporting me with one arm, 
 pulled a heavy revolver the cowboys all call
 
 228 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 them " guns " from its sheath attached to his 
 belt, and peered inquiringly into the oak 
 shadows. "If the lion went in there he's 
 prob'ly there yet," he said, cocking the weapon ; 
 " but if he'll let me alone I won't trouble him ; 
 I ain't lost no lion, not to-night. Here, let me 
 help you on the hoss, and we'll perceed out o' 
 here kind o' cautious like. The lion won't 
 tackle us as long as he thinks we're on the watch 
 for him." 
 
 All this time Mr. Jones had clung to Chris's 
 bridle, and Chris had been pulling mightily, in 
 a transport of fear, to get away from him. In- 
 stead of slackening on the bridle, and thereby 
 giving the broncho a chance as he lifted me to 
 the saddle, Mr. Jones put one foot on the bridle 
 reins, holding the horse's nose down close to 
 the ground while he swung me up. It was a 
 little thing to notice at such a time, but it was 
 so effective that I could not help but observe it. 
 Once in the saddle my courage returned to me. 
 I did not think it at all likely that Chris would 
 be able to dismount me again, whatever he might
 
 A WILD RIDE 229 
 
 do. But it was evident that Mr. Jones intended 
 to take no risks. 
 
 " Sure you're all right ?" he asked, as I settled 
 myself securely. 
 
 "Yes, I think so." 
 
 " Very well, then ; now, you make it your 
 business to stay right there, and I'll do the 
 rest." He stepped forward cautiously as he 
 spoke, gun in hand, but we passed the tree in 
 safety, and, before we were out of the cafion I 
 was giving him the details of my encounter with 
 the lion. " You had a close squeak for it, no 
 mistake," was his candid summing up. " You 
 see, that there canon ain't never over'n above 
 safe, not after night it ain't ; but I didn't want 
 to tell you that after you'd jest been through it, 
 so I thought I hang 'round out-doors, after you 
 started for home, until I was sure you had had 
 time to git through the cafion all right, and 
 whilst I was loitering 'round, what should come 
 a-tearing up to the door but your hoss ! I 
 knowed that that meant something wrong, of 
 course. I hope you won't lay it up agin me
 
 230 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 that I was a-hollering your name that-a-way 
 back yon. I had to yell the name that I 
 thought would git to you quickest." 
 
 I hastened to reassure him on that point, and, 
 his tongue, perhaps, loosened by the strangeness 
 of the adventure, he went on to tell me of vari- 
 ous encounters that he had had with the wild 
 creatures of the mountains, creatures that he 
 classified under the one generic title of " brute 
 beasts." He kept his place by my bridle rein 
 until we had nearly reached the door of our 
 cottage. Then he stopped abruptly in the 
 midst of a bear story to say : 
 
 " Wai, I reckon you'll git home the rest o' 
 the way all right, but don't ye make a short cut 
 of the Devil's Furrow any more after dark. 
 Good-night." An instant more and he was out 
 f*f sight.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 
 
 RUNNING WOLF'S hurt proved to be rather 
 a serious matter. He stayed with us nearly a 
 week, during which time father, who had taken 
 a silent man's fancy to another equally silent, 
 dressed his wound and asked no questions, but, 
 at the close of the fourth day, the patient him- 
 self developed an unexpected vein of curiosity. 
 When alone with Aunt Matilda he began ask- 
 ing questions. He inquired in quite fair English, 
 for all that he was so taciturn, where the " Light 
 of Day " meaning Florence, as aunt made out 
 with some difficulty, and the little dark squaw, 
 meaning me, as she made out with no difficulty 
 at all went every morning. Aunt Matilda ex- 
 plained at length about the sheep, and Running 
 Wolf nodded silent comprehension. He made 
 no comments, not even when aunt, glad of the 
 opportunity to pour the tale of her troubles into 
 
 231
 
 232 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 an ear that she believed to be friendly, told of 
 our increasing anxiety about the sheep-shearing, 
 which, in common humanity, must be attended 
 to next week if at all. 
 
 " Bet' not 'tall ; bet' sell 'em," said Eunning 
 Wolf, and said no more, but, later in the day, 
 he asked,! "Light of Day goin' wash 'em 
 sheep?" 
 
 "I don't know," said Aunt Matilda, help- 
 lessly, and instantly added, "Why, no. How 
 could she? Poor child!" 
 
 " Light of Day can sing," the Indian resumed 
 calmly, " her sing ; that all right." 
 
 "Singing won't shear the sheep," Aunt Matilda 
 informed him irritably. Running Wolf looked 
 as though he had a different opinion, but he said 
 nothing. He was anxious to get back to the 
 Reservation, explaining that this continued 
 absence might tell against him. Indians absent 
 from the Reservation without leave were pun- 
 ished by being deprived at the Agent's dis- 
 cretionof a portion small or large as the case 
 might be of the monthly allotment of beef and
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 233 
 
 clothing, and often suffered imprisonment in the 
 guard-house for such offenses. 
 
 " I goin' kill what man tries to put me in the 
 guard-house," Running Wolf told us with quiet 
 decision, as he recited this schedule of Agency 
 rules to us : "I never been in no more prison 
 than Reservation ; that 'nuff. Not goin' stay in 
 no white man's wick-i-up less'n I want to." 
 
 " I should suppose that there would not be the 
 least danger of your being treated with such 
 severity," father said. " Your accident is excuse 
 enough for your absence." 
 
 " Been a good many away from Reservation 
 without leave. Agent say he goin' to make 
 'samples of 'em when they come in. Agent say 
 to me, I go to Louisiana Medina's wick-i-up ; 
 talk at him, buy some blankets. Say I go two 
 . days ; not say I smash foot and go five day 
 already." 
 
 " Well, but a glance at your foot is enough. 
 He can see how impossible it would have 
 been for you to proceed after getting such a 
 hurt."
 
 234 THE GIRL BANCHERS 
 
 Running Wolf shook his head. "Indian 
 bad," he said candidly. " Agent think maybe 
 I make smash ; stay away longer." The old 
 man's distress so plainly increased as the hours 
 went by that father bethought himself of a means 
 by which he might not only get him home but 
 also explain the reason of his stay in order to 
 avert any threatened punishment. 
 
 " I'll lend you a horse, Running Wolf, and 
 ride over with you to-morrow ; then I'll tell the 
 agent just how it is," he said. Running Wolf 
 heard of this plan in stolid silence, but early the 
 next morning, glancing out of the window as I 
 was dressing, whom should I see limping away 
 down the road but Running Wolf! He had 
 slipped quietly out of the house and started on 
 the long and painful tramp alone, rather than 
 have any discussion as to the propriety of the 
 move with the white man who was so bent on 
 befriending him. I must confess to having 
 taken a fancy to him myself, and the sight of 
 him limping resolutely away from us sent a pang 
 to my heart.
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 235 
 
 Twice during the season, and before I had 
 taken up the arduous life of a shepherdess, I 
 had joined a party of young people valley 
 residents bound on a picnic in making the 
 ascent of Mount Kenneth. To picnic on that 
 grand peak seemed to me little short of sacrilege, 
 but my scruples did not deter me from going. 
 After all, the gay riding party went no farther 
 than the timber line, and I felt that I had 
 learned the trail without belittling the mountain 
 that I so respected. I had never descended the 
 trail on the farther side, but Running Wolf 
 would know the way. If Florence would take 
 charge of the flock for the day what was to 
 hinder my taking the Indian over to the Agency? 
 I felt all the more eager to help him since his 
 quiet departure told more plainly than words 
 could have done, what he thought of father's 
 attempting such a feat. I did not want him to 
 suffer for his consideration to a sick man. 
 
 I finished dressing in haste and ran out after 
 him. "Wait, Running Wolf, wait, I'll take 
 you over the mountain."
 
 236 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 "Little squaw take? All right. Lots of 
 squaw. Not many good white mans," and with 
 these uncomplimentary words the old man sat 
 down in the dust by the roadside, " Bring on 
 horse," he said. 
 
 " Well, but you must come back to the house 
 and get some breakfast, so must I, then we'll 
 start right off." 
 
 " Little squaw go back V eat ; me stay here ; 
 me got breakfas'." He produced a leathery look- 
 ing string of venison from the pouch under his 
 blanket, and began chewing at one end of it 
 with stolid determination. I knew by this time 
 that it was quite useless to argue with him, but 
 I could not forbear saying : 
 
 " I think you had better come back, Running 
 Wolf." 
 
 " Me go on ; me not go back. Good white 
 man sick. Cough, cough, laugh, say ' all right, 
 me got a little tickle in windpipe/ No say he 
 sick. If Running Wolf go back to get on pony, 
 white man get on one, too, ride, ride, tire all out; 
 cough, cough, no more laugh. Me no go back."
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 237 
 
 " I am afraid you are right ; stay here and 
 I'll come in a few minutes." 
 
 Father, who had had a bad night, raised no 
 special objections to my taking his place in 
 going over the mountain. I knew very well 
 that he was far from understanding what an 
 undertaking it really was, and was thankful 
 that there was small chance of his being enlight- 
 ened. Florence, who appreciated the situation 
 better, objected strenuously to my going on such 
 an errand. 
 
 " You'll get lost ; you'll never find your way 
 home alone after you get the Indian safe to the 
 Reservation." 
 
 " Florence, the horses will know the home- 
 ward trail whether I do or not. I'll leave it to 
 them if I get confused. Don't worry, be a prac- 
 tical Bo-peep, and expect me home not much 
 later than usual." 
 
 The trip, which was so formidable to look at 
 was accomplished in perfect safety. I saw the 
 agent, a gentlemanly man with a rather stern 
 face, who politely commended what he was
 
 238 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 pleased to call my courage and kindness in 
 bringing Running Wolf into the fold. I be- 
 spoke his clemency for the silent victim who 
 disdained to make any explanations himself, and, 
 having taken dinner with the agent's wife, and 
 made a number of pleasant acquaintances, I was 
 in the saddle and on my homeward way before 
 two o'clock. The road led past the tepee or 
 lodge or whatever he called it, of Running 
 Wolf, whom I found seated outside his abode 
 waiting to give me a parting word, which I ac- 
 cepted in the same spirit of friendliness in which 
 it was offered, although I had not the faintest 
 conception of its meaning. "Two suns, we 
 come, Light of Day. Little squaw be there," 
 he said. 
 
 I was home before Florence, and a good deal 
 elated at having added another route to my list 
 of mountain trails. I was anxious to become 
 acquainted with the country in all directions. 
 
 Rome was unusually busy with his irrigating 
 ditch about this time and we saw less of him 
 than usual, but he happened to call that even-
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 239 
 
 ing. He had been down to Mr. Davis' store 
 and stopped to regale us with some bits of valley 
 gossip on his return. 
 
 " Wool's gone up ; way up," he told us, among 
 other things. " If you can get your sheep sheared 
 all right, Miss Stanley, you'll make a pile of 
 money, over 'n' above expenses ; there's been 
 some kind of a disease among the sheep down 
 South, and the clip don't amount to more'n 
 half as much as it gen'lly does. That shortage 
 has sent the price of wool up booming. Your 
 stock is in prime condition now, and if we can 
 get the shearing done and the clip marketed 
 while the price is up, you'll get a snug pile for 
 your summer's work, girls. But, gracious, I 
 wish't some one would tell us how the shearing's 
 to be done. When this business does pay it pays 
 big ; when it don't it makes one feel creepy. I 
 wish I could shear the sheep myself, but I can't, 
 and there's no use talking, it needs about forty 
 good, active men. They would get it all done 
 in one day. I reckon it would take me single- 
 handed, with what I don't know about the
 
 240 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 business, all the rest of my natural life, and I 
 expect to live to be pretty old, too." 
 
 The next day, while I watched the flock, 
 Florence rode about the valley again in hopeless 
 quest of the shearers that, apparently, did not 
 exist. The swarthy sons of Mexico whom she 
 interviewed blessed her going and her coming, 
 but work for her they would not. I am afraid 
 that we began to feel unreasonably bitter toward 
 them. Our need of their services was so great, 
 we offered them alluring wages, but they were 
 afraid; the shadow of the cattlemen's wrath 
 was heavy upon them. The fire of that wrath 
 was smoldering, not dead, by any means, 
 although, save social and commercial ostracism, 
 we had not felt its fury since driving the sheep 
 out on the plains. The shearers knew very 
 well that their poor homes, their lives, even, 
 were in danger if they were caught giving aid 
 to us, the innocent owners of some sheep that 
 these cattlemen had said should not remain in 
 the valley not even upon land that belonged 
 to their owners. When it came to the rights
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 241 
 
 of property considered from that standpoint, 
 the cattlemen insisted that a principle was at 
 stake. Beside, the land outside on the plains 
 where the sheep were now grazing was only 
 leased school land, and some of the cattlemen 
 said that the land agent had no right to lease 
 land for sheep-grazing purposes. 
 
 It gradually dawned upon us that in his haste 
 to be rid of his troublesome stock Mr. Seaton 
 had even suffered the financial loss entailed by 
 not shearing the sheep when they were in his 
 hands ; for it was a thing that should have been 
 done before they came into our possession. That 
 seemed strange at first ; afterward it did not. 
 It resolved itself into another instance of Mr. 
 Seaton's far-reaching shrewdnesSo But it was 
 quite by accident that we discovered that, and 
 this is not the time to tell it. 
 
 There was a sort of outer pen built in connec- 
 tion with the plains' corral, into which sheep 
 were driven after washing, the washing pen it- 
 self being built out into the San Coulee at a spot 
 where the rugged, precipitous banks happened 
 16
 
 242 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 to give way, allowing an easy outlet to the 
 plains. From this water pen two walled lanes 
 diverged, the one leading to the large corral, the 
 other to the outer pen where they were penned 
 after washing to await the work of the shearers. 
 
 It was with heavy hearts and downcast faces 
 that Florence and I approached the scene of our 
 daily labors on the morning of the third day 
 after I had helped Running Wolf to reach the 
 Reservation. Florence was in tears. She had 
 worked under the relentless strain of a newly 
 awakened sense of duty during all these weeks 
 of exposure to the blazing sun on fair days or 
 the cold, misty rain on the infrequent dark days, 
 and now saw the whole profit of those days of 
 toil, and all that we hoped to gain by that profit, 
 slipping through our helpless fingers, all for the 
 want of a few men for a few hours. 
 
 " They will ruin us ; they will drive us away, 
 Elsie," she said, brokenly. " We cannot stand 
 up against them. The failure to get shearers is 
 just as bad for us in every way as the stampede, 
 and more discouraging. They mean to keep
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 243 
 
 the Mexicans terrorized so that they will not 
 work for us. I don't mean about the herding 
 we can manage that, I suppose, even in winter,," 
 
 The question of the care of this great herd of 
 sheep in winter had troubled me not a little, 
 but I had not spoken of it, for the reason that I 
 was trying to live up to the homely wisdom 
 embodied in President Lincoln's reply to the 
 timid fellow -traveler who was anxiously won- 
 dering as they journeyed toward it how they 
 were to cross the Sangamon River, the stream 
 being at flood and the bridges gone. Lincoln 
 said impressively, " My dear sir, I make it a 
 rule never to cross the Sangamon River until I 
 get there." I told myself that I would not allow 
 the thought of any of our possible bugbears to 
 worry me until they actually confronted me, 
 but in the case of the sheep shearing the bug- 
 bear was already confronting and staring us 
 menacingly in the face. 
 
 As we surmounted the last gentle swell that 
 brought us in sight of the corral where we had 
 left the sheep safely penned the night before,
 
 244 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 we drew rein and stared in speechless amaze- 
 ment at the scene before us. The sun was just 
 rising, sending long, level shafts of light straight 
 from his throne in the east until their flaming 
 glory touched and transfigured for an instant a 
 line of large rounded objects strung along the 
 river bank close by the sheep-washing pen, 
 making them look, for the nonce, like symmet- 
 rical golden haystacks. Then the glory faded, 
 became diffused, and we saw that the golden 
 haystacks were only a half-dozen dingy, smoke- 
 stained Indian tepees. But that was not all ; 
 the sliding gate at the back of the corral, open- 
 ing upon the water lane, had been unlocked and 
 a line of reluctant sheep were being urged along 
 the narrow way toward the water pen by two or 
 three swarthy men. Already it seemed im- 
 possible, but we had the evidence of our own 
 eyesight for it a score or more of shorn and 
 bleating victims looking ridiculously small 
 and foolish without the heavy fleeces to which 
 we, and they, had become accustomed were 
 venturing timidly out toward their usual feed-
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 245 
 
 ing grounds. And Felix ? Felix with his alert, 
 official air, was here, there, and everywhere, 
 urging on the unwilling candidates for a bath, 
 and scattering the shivering, silly creatures who 
 hung about bewildered by the transformation 
 they had undergone out upon the plains. He 
 was evidently upon the best of terms with each 
 and every member of the swarthy host that had 
 encamped beside his charges. 
 
 " What, what does it mean ?" gasped Flor- 
 ence. 
 
 " I'm not quite sure, Flossie ; but I think it 
 means that our sheep shearing is well under 
 way," I replied.
 
 CHAPTER XVH 
 
 THE SHEARING OF THE SHEEP 
 
 WE rode nearer, but very slowly. Presently 
 out from the entrance to one of the tepees, a 
 dusky figure hobbled, stared at us a moment, 
 and then advanced to meet us. It was Run- 
 ning Wolf, his face one broad smile of satisfac- 
 tion. 
 
 " Light of Day sing ; Indians wash sheep, 
 shear sheep, all done soon," he proclaimed, 
 waving his hand toward the scene of activity 
 where, it appeared to me, an entire Indian tribe 
 were industriously working. 
 
 " Why but but Indians ! I never knew 
 that they could would do such things !" 
 stammered Florence. 
 
 " These good Indians ; not war-path Indians. 
 No." There was a grave dignity in the manner 
 in which he spoke of the virtues of this par- 
 ticular tribe that seemed to forbid further in- 
 246
 
 THE SHEARING OF THE SHEEP 247 
 
 quiry. Florence and I, dazed with astonishment, 
 rode down to the river pen, where more than a 
 dozen men were washing the struggling sheep. 
 I looked attentively at the Indians in the water 
 and shearing-pen. They were smaller, as a 
 rule, than any Indians I had ever before seen ; 
 their faces were brown, their white teeth 
 gleamed through lips parted in frequent good- 
 natured smiles ; their voices when they spoke, 
 which was seldom were mellow, and the 
 few low words that they used were Spanish, 
 but their costume what there was of it was 
 unmistakably, indeed, rather obtrusively, In- 
 dian. 
 
 They worked fast, with a certain air of sec- 
 recy and furtive watchfulness. One slender, 
 brown-limbed brave whom I saw scrubbing away 
 at a sheep, up to his hips in water, had a face 
 so like that of our own vanished Mexican herder 
 that he might save for the dress, have been his 
 twin brother, but he was plainly an Indian, for 
 he wore an eagle's feather dangling loosely from 
 his long black locks.
 
 248 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 "Elsie," whispered Florence, riding up to 
 my side, " they are Mexicans." Running Wolf, 
 who had hobbled quickly after us, laid his hand 
 on her pony's mane. 
 
 " They are Indians, Light of Day, they are 
 Indians !" he declared, almost fiercely. En- 
 lightenment was slowly dawning upon us. 
 
 " They are Indians for to-day," I said. 
 
 Running Wolf looked at me, his keen eyes 
 flashing. 
 
 " Mexican shearer 'fraid of cattleman ; git out 
 here ; git shot," he said slowly. " Traid to 
 shear 'em sheep for white squaws. Indian not 
 'fraid. Agency officers goin' make it hot for 
 any man what hurt Indian. Cattleman let 
 Indian 'lone. Cowboy ride 'long past corral ; 
 see Indian shearin', scowl, say nottin', go 'bout 
 their business " which was, in fact, a thing 
 that had already happened. "See Mexican 
 shearin'," continued Running Wolf impres- 
 sively, " ride up, say, ' Ho, you scoundrels ! git 
 out o' that or I shoot !' Mexican then git out, 
 sheep no shear."
 
 THE SHEARING OF THE SHEEP 249 
 
 " But what if the cowboys go to the Mexican 
 houses and find them gone ?" I asked. 
 
 Running Wolf chuckled. "No fin' 'em 
 gone ; all men 'roun' home. Mexicans to-day ; 
 Indians to-morrow." 
 
 This, then, was Running Wolfs strategic 
 scheme, as well as the explanation of his last 
 words to me. There were fifty or more men at 
 work in and around the corral, which meant that 
 Running Wolf had been able to install as many 
 Indians for the day in the various Mexican 
 houses up and down the Coulee. The plan was 
 as safe as it was shrewd, for, even if, as was not 
 very likely to happen, an inquisitive rider 
 should stop at one of the Mexican houses, the 
 head of the family had but to show himself at 
 a safe distance out of talking range and slink 
 away, leaving the burden of conversation to be 
 carried on by the women. This was customary, 
 as the women were, almost without exception, 
 much better linguists than the men. 
 
 " Running Wolf," I said in a burst of grat- 
 itude, " your plan is glorious ! glorious ! But
 
 250 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 how in the world did you get permission to 
 bring so many men from the Reservation ?" 
 
 " Indian police bad Indians, been drinking 
 much firewater las' two day," replied Running 
 Wolf with a gravity that repelled the suspicion 
 that he himself might have been instrumental 
 in furnishing the betraying firewater to the 
 mounted police whose duty it was to patrol the 
 Indian village and make sure that none were 
 missing. 
 
 " You goin' give two wage for dis' ?" Running 
 Wolf asked suddenly. 
 
 " You mean double pay ? Yes, we will." 
 
 He shook his head. " No mean two pays for 
 one man. One day wage for mens here ; one 
 day wage for mens in houses." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; yes indeed. I see now. It shall 
 be just as you say, Running Wolf, and we are, 
 oh, so grateful to you besides. You are the 
 general who planned all this, and have taken so 
 much risk with your lame foot and all, you will 
 let us pay you " 
 
 "Yes," interrupted the Indian quickly. "You
 
 THE SHEARING OF THE SHEEP 251 
 
 goiii' pay me big, big !" There was a sudden 
 lighting of his saturnine countenance, "you 
 goin' pay me now." 
 
 " How ?" I asked in some alarm. 
 
 " Light of Day goin' sit on yon' rock near 
 wash-pen and sing, ' In the fair-hy li-hight, 
 of a sum-mah ni-ght, on 'e ba-hanks of 'e bl-hue 
 more-shell!'" There was something inexpress- 
 ibly ludicrous in the old man's attempt made 
 in absolute good faith to imitate Florence's 
 voice and even the little affectations of her 
 pronunciation. 
 
 Flossie's face turned scarlet. I bit my lips 
 and looked long at the mirage of spectre pine 
 trees, gliding and breaking in endless procession 
 at the base of the far-off Rattlesnake Buttes, 
 before I could find voice to say steadily, " I 
 think that is a very nice arrangement." 
 
 " Yes, I make that 'rangement with shearers. 
 They work. Light of Day sing. Little dark 
 squaw look on. Come." 
 
 We had already dismounted, letting our 
 ponies' bridles trail cowboy fashion, while they
 
 252 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 grazed at will. We followed Running Wolf to 
 the place indicated. He had already spread a 
 blanket on the rock. Florence seated herself 
 and sang steadily for nearly two hours, Run- 
 ning Wolf lying prone upon the ground at her 
 feet and keeping his eyes closed in a state of 
 blissful silence. He paid no attention what- 
 ever to the shearers ; his business had been to 
 get them there. They could do the rest. 
 
 Florence, who was getting very tired, said at 
 last, " My sister sings." 
 
 "Ugh mebbe don't look like it. Sing," 
 commanded our benefactor. I complied with 
 the order to the best of my ability, and when I 
 had concluded he complimented my performance 
 by remarking : " Little dark squaw like mock 
 bird ; not much to look at ; good to hear sing. 
 Sing again." The poor old fellow's spiritual 
 nature was starved, he was insatiable in his 
 eagerness for music, yet he evidently did not 
 intend to be at all hard on us, only, to an Indian, 
 a woman of whatever color is always a squaw 
 and no more.
 
 THE SHEARING OF THE SHEEP 253 
 
 When, later than usual, Florence and I 
 mounted our ponies and started home that 
 evening, there was no sign of an Indian en- 
 campment anywhere in the vicinity, but the 
 corral sheds were piled high with hundreds of 
 pounds of clean, white fleeces, and inside the 
 corral two thousand seven hundred and sixty- 
 five newly-shorn sheep huddled, crouching to- 
 gether for warmth. Felix, with the satisfied air 
 of one who has done a good day's work, as, in- 
 deed, he had, lay in his box beside the closed 
 gates, his nose on his paws, his watchful eyes 
 blinking drowsily. We were both so hoarse 
 from much singing that we could scarcely speak, 
 but our hearts were light, lighter than they had 
 been since the night that the Mexican herders 
 had come to tell us that they could no longer 
 work for us, for the clip was saved, and the 
 payment on our home assured. Running Wolf 
 had stipulated that we should " make no talk " 
 as he expressed it, but should put the pay for 
 the day's work in a hollow rock beside the trail 
 to the upper Coulee, the location of which he
 
 254 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 minutely described. " Put it there to-night, 
 then go home," he admonished us. The place 
 that he mentioned was about a mile from our 
 cottage. 
 
 We got the money of Aunt Matilda, who 
 fairly cried with joy when she found what had 
 taken place, then rode to the rock, and were 
 back again by the time twilight had fairly 
 merged into early night. Rome called that 
 evening, much troubled in mind over our un- 
 shorn sheep it was an exquisite pleasure to 
 tell him that the work was done. " Done by a 
 band of roving Indians from the Reservation." 
 
 " I'm all-fired glad it's done in some way," 
 he said, " but it's the first time I ever knew a 
 Reservation Indian to do anything so much like 
 work." 
 
 It really seemed disloyal to this good man, 
 who had always been such a steadfast friend 
 in time of need, not to tell him how the work 
 had been done. I reasoned that Running Wolf 
 himself would probably have made an exception 
 in his favor, and so I told him, forgetting in the
 
 THE SHEARING OF THE SHEEP 255 
 
 interest of my story that father's door was open 
 and that it was quite too early for him to be 
 asleep. He had retired very early, being more 
 than usually tired from the effect of a day's 
 labor in which it had been impossible to make 
 use of Johnny's willing but ignorant help. He 
 had been enlarging his brick-kiln, and Johnny 
 could not understand his directions, so, as I have 
 said, father went to bed very weary, but my 
 story woke him up most effectually. He arose, 
 dressed in silence, and came out into the room 
 where we were sitting. 
 
 " Now tell me all about it," he said, sitting 
 down quite heedless of our ill-concealed con- 
 sternation. " Why was all this secrecy neces- 
 sary about the sheep shearing? Why has 
 it been so difficult all along for us to hire 
 herders when there are scores of Mexicans out 
 of work here in the valley ? Why did Mr. 
 Seaton allow the herders that we did have to 
 keep the flock penned in the upper valley until 
 they were half starved ? Why " 
 
 " Don't you think you have asked questions
 
 256 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 enough for one evening, Hugh?" asked Aunt 
 Matilda with unusual asperity. I think she 
 was rather frightened as to the effect on him of 
 the disclosure that she foresaw must come. 
 
 " No, Matilda, I don't ; my only regret is 
 that I have been too stupidly selfish to ask them 
 before. Now I mean to find out. I mean to 
 find out why a band of Mexican sheep shearers 
 must masquerade as Indians before they can 
 safely do their work, if I have to walk over the 
 mountain to ask old Running Wolf himself, 
 who seems to know all about our business." 
 
 "I told him," confessed Aunt Matilda; "I 
 was in sore distress, I had to tell some one." 
 
 "And not having any brother handy you 
 chose our red friend as a confidant ; your choice 
 seems to have been a wise one." 
 
 " Now, Hugh, we kept it from you lest it 
 should worry you. You would not have been 
 in such health as you are to-day if you had 
 known all." 
 
 " Perhaps not, Mattie. I do not question the 
 unselfishness of your motive. You have all
 
 THE SHEARING OF THE SHEEP 257 
 
 sacrificed yourselves for me as usual. You 
 have meant to spare me what ?" 
 
 Evasion or concealment was now out of the 
 question. 
 
 " You tell him, Rome," said Aunt Matilda, 
 with the air of one who yields against her 
 better judgment. " We've got the wool clip, 
 any way," she murmured, fortifying herself 
 with that fact. 
 
 " I have suspected for some time that all was 
 not right," father said, when Rome had related 
 at length the attitude and claims of the cattle- 
 men, "but I am so proud of my girls, my two 
 brave, unselfish girls, that it is almost worth 
 while to have had this experience, hard as it is, 
 just to know what they can do when the occa- 
 sion calls for it. But it won't do to try even the 
 highest mettle beyond a certain point, you know, 
 and it appears to me we have quite reached that 
 point." 
 
 " Why, papa I" ejaculated Florence hoarsely, 
 " when the clip is all wooled I mean when 
 the wool is all clipped, and stored ready for 
 17
 
 258 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 marketing ! And if you are going to talk 
 of bravery, think of Running Wolf and his 
 band of kidnapped followers ! May the Agency 
 officers be good to them I" 
 
 " The day's experience seems to have tried 
 your voice as well as that of the little dark 
 squaw," father said, laughingly. " But it's all 
 too risky ; we had better give in to the cattle- 
 men until such time as they think best to 
 keep sheep themselves at least. You have, if 
 you will forgive me for saying it, followed your 
 noses too closely ; you have not even entertained 
 the idea, it appears, that there can be any other 
 business than sheep ranching." 
 
 " Well, with wool at twenty-five cents a 
 pound, as it is in Belmont to-day, there ain't 
 much use in thinking of anything else," inter- 
 posed Rome. "Your venture, thanks to your own 
 kindness and the young ladies singing and old 
 Running Wolf's "susceptibility, has turned out 
 most uncommon well, or it will have turned 
 out so if we get the clip marketed whilst the 
 price is up, and I'll help you see to that. The
 
 THE SHEARING OF THE SHEEP 259 
 
 cattlemen make a big mistake in running 
 all the sheep out of this country, but they'll 
 stick to it for awhile now if it's only out 
 of spite." 
 
 Within three days the clip was marketed, 
 the balance due Mr. Seaton for the ranch sent 
 him, and a goodly sum left to our credit in the 
 bank as the result of our summer's work.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 NEWS FROM HOME 
 
 FATHER was so aroused by what he had heard 
 of the dangers attendant upon sheep ranching 
 in a country dominated by cattlemen, that the 
 purpose he had declared of getting rid of the 
 flock did not flag as the days went by. The 
 necessity for- action, for arousing himself to an 
 intelligent comprehension of the matter, so far 
 from unduly exciting him, or making him worse, 
 seemed, really, to do him good. The store, 
 where we were in the habit of purchasing such 
 supplies as were not brought in by the freight 
 wagons by special arrangement, had become 
 rather a favorite lounging place with him, and, 
 it is probable, he would soon have found out all 
 that we did not wish him to know in regard to 
 the way our neighbors felt toward us had not 
 Aunt Matilda taken the precaution to visit ths 
 storekeeper and earnestly impress upon him the 
 260
 
 NEWS FROM HOME 261 
 
 necessity of keeping such troublesome knowl- 
 edge from the invalid. Mr. Davis promised to 
 do his best in this particular, and he kept his 
 word. He succeeded so well that father never 
 so much as suspected the reason why Mr. Davis 
 was so prone to direct his attention to some 
 object of interest outside of the store when there 
 was any one present whom he thought it best 
 that father should not meet. But the time of 
 blissful ignorance was past, now that the wool 
 was sold and the last dollar of our indebtedness 
 on the San Coulee ranch paid, he announced to 
 Aunt Matilda that he was going to see Mr. 
 Davis and have a talk with him as to what was 
 best to be done with our woolly charges. 
 
 Aunt Matilda no longer objected. " We've 
 had such wonderful luck," she said, " it seems 
 almost like tempting providence to ask that it 
 should be continued." But afterward her sense 
 of caution took alarm and she said, " I do hope, 
 Hugh, that you're not thinking of buying Mr. 
 Davis' store !" Since the ranch was paid for 
 and money still in the bank she seemed to feel
 
 262 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 that we were really another lot of Roths- 
 childs. 
 
 Father smiled. " I'll not buy it to-day, Mat- 
 tie, unless he will sell for let me see " he felt 
 in his pockets and presently fished out a nickel 
 " for five cents, and I doubt if he'll do that." 
 
 " He sells five sticks of peppermint for a 
 nickel," Vevie informed him. 
 
 Father tossed up the coin. " Get your hat 
 and come with me, will-o'-the-wisp. We'll see 
 if he can have any peppermint left at that 
 price." 
 
 When he returned in the afternoon he looked 
 elated. " The difficulty is solved, Mattie," he 
 said as he entered the house with the step that 
 was still slow and feeble for all his buoyant 
 spirit. 
 
 " Well, you've earned a rest, then," aunt said, 
 pulling an easy chair toward a sunny corner. 
 " I just expect nothing else but that you'll be 
 down sick with all this worry ; I wish we had 
 never let you into our silly troubles that we 
 ought to have borne alone."
 
 NEWS FROM HOME 263 
 
 " I shall never cease to wonder that you and 
 the girls were able to bear them alone so long, 
 Matilda ; but now that the ranch is paid for, I 
 think we may safely embark in another business. 
 Something in which we will need no help but 
 such as Johnny can give and that will not 
 oblige my poor girls to expose themselves to 
 such perils as they have been doing." 
 
 " Whatever it is, if it can do that, it will be 
 a welcome change," Aunt Matilda admitted. 
 " But, indeed, Hugh, I'm afraid there is 
 nothing. If you you are thinking of some 
 new invention," she went on hesitatingly. " I 
 know, of course, that it will be a good one, 
 but" 
 
 " It will be a new invention in San Coulee, 
 Mattie," father said, smiling. " Come, now, 
 Matilda, these cattle kings have snubbed and 
 hounded us, suppose we return good for evil by 
 supplying them with fruit." 
 
 Aunt Matilda's face fell. " If you mean that 
 we are to start a fruit ranch, Hugh, it's the one 
 thing I would like above all others. Poor
 
 264 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 Johnny would be just as useful then as one 
 with the brightest wits, but I'm afraid it's im- 
 possible." 
 
 " I see that you have given the matter some 
 thought. Among other things have you ever 
 thought of an irrigating ditch ?" 
 
 "An irrigating ditch? Why, Hugh, it 
 would take a fortune to bring the waters of 
 San Coulee, deep as the stream is in its banks, 
 up to the level of our acres !" 
 
 " There is a singularly obliging fellow by the 
 name of Rome Beaumont, who has succeeded 
 in turning the San Coulee, or the south branch 
 of it, which is, I am told, more tractable than 
 the main stream, in the direction that he 
 wishes it to flow. The ditch on which he has 
 been so long working is completed. He was 
 compelled to blast a tunnel through a half 
 dozen yards of solid rock to get the water where 
 he wants it, but he's got it. Instead of turning 
 his ditch back into the main river, as he does 
 now, after it has served his purpose, there can 
 be nothing easier, Mr. Davis says, than to bring
 
 NEWS FROM HOME 265 
 
 it skirting along the edge of our valley. Then 
 we can irrigate every inch of our land if we 
 choose." 
 
 " I'm thinking that's what we'll choose !" 
 cried Aunt Matilda with sparkling eyes. " If 
 we can really get water on this land, we never 
 need trouble ourselves as to the future. I tell 
 you now, Hugh, it has almost broken my 
 heart to see our girls obliged to do the work 
 they have done this summer. And they have 
 done it so cheerfully, too, even Florence, and 
 you know how she has always regarded any 
 personal hardship hitherto." 
 
 " Yes ; but it will break my heart if they 
 are obliged to keep this up much longer." 
 
 " I haven't seemed to mind their doing it," 
 Aunt Matilda went on, " because I knew they 
 had to do it ; there was no choice ; now it is 
 different. We must see Rome and get his ad- 
 vice about disposing of the flock. He'll be 
 glad enough to do that ; he's always wanted us 
 to sell." 
 
 " Has he ? He's a good man."
 
 266 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 "And so disinterested, too!" Aunt Matilda 
 declared warmly. 
 
 " Oh ! yes, yes ; but do you think, Matilda, 
 that he's entirely disinterested ?" 
 
 "Well, Hugh, I am surprised! You are 
 usually the last person in the world to attribute 
 a kindness to interested motives. I really, 
 Hugh, it pains me to hear you speak in that 
 way. He would never take any pay, and he 
 never spared himself in our service. I own 
 that I did think, along at first, that he might 
 be attracted by Florence, but I'm quite sure 
 that was a mistake. He is so much older than 
 she, and " 
 
 " He's just about your age, isn't he, Mattie ?" 
 
 " Yes, I think he is ; just about." 
 
 Father's eyes were twinkling. Aunt's face 
 still very fresh and sweet to look upon, turned 
 a glowing crimson. She sat for a moment in 
 silence, considering the revelation that father's 
 words afforded. Presently Vevie, who had been 
 sitting at the table poring over a book with 
 absorbed interest, brought the volume to her.
 
 NEWS FROM HOME 267 
 
 It was a drawing-book, filled with sketches for 
 the benefit of the portrait painter. Vevie had 
 been studying the page devoted to the delinea- 
 tion of human mouths. " Do you think one of 
 those might be a miner's mouth, auntie?" she 
 inquired seriously. 
 
 Aunt, grown suddenly sensitive on the sub- 
 ject of miners, turned red. " I don't know, I'm 
 sure ; why do you ask ?" 
 
 " Mr. Davis said that we could raise straw- 
 berries here big enough to fill a miner's mouth. 
 I wanted to know how big that would be, but 
 if you don't know, I'll ask Mr. Rome to let me 
 measure his mouth when he comes again." 
 
 Father laughed aloud at that. " Darling, we'll 
 raise some large enough to fill your mouth, at 
 all events. Oh, Matilda, I have a letter for 
 you ; I had nearly forgotten it." He fumbled 
 in two or three different pockets before finding 
 it, but, just as aunt was resignedly coming to 
 the conclusion that he had either lost or mislaid 
 it, he brought it forth. " From our esthetic 
 friend, Mrs. Elliot, I judge, from the style of
 
 268 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 the envelope. You observe that there is a crest. 
 What is it ? A small fairy with large wings ?" 
 
 " They are the wings of a goose, if any. It 
 puts me out of all patience to see such affecta- 
 tion." 
 
 Aunt Matilda tore the letter open with small 
 regard for the crest. We had little time for 
 letter-writing in those busy days, and news from 
 our old home was eagerly welcomed, crest or no 
 crest. The chief interest of Mrs. Elliot's letter 
 lay in the closing paragraph. 
 
 " By the way," it ran, " I met young Donald 
 Arleigh on the street this afternoon. He is 
 looking extremely well, even handsome " 
 "As if he didn't always look handsome," mut- 
 tered Aunt Matilda, indignantly. " It was 
 quite a surprise to me to learn," the letter went 
 on, " as I did when he addressed me that he 
 had no knowledge of your removal from the 
 city. He was desirous of obtaining your pres- 
 ent address, which I took pleasure in giving 
 him, for it may be that he is as the prodigal 
 son returning to his husks I should say, from
 
 NEWS FROM HOME 269 
 
 his husks and a word of friendly greeting now 
 may set the young man's wandering feet in the 
 right path." Aunt read the paragraph aloud 
 deliberately, then she laid the letter down softly 
 with a low sigh. The mention of Donald's 
 name was to tear a healing wound afresh. After 
 an interval father said, in a quivering voice : 
 
 " I could bear it better, Matilda, if the mys- 
 tery of his disappearance could be explained ; 
 if he had a reason for Oh ! Donald, Donald !" 
 The words ended in a groan. 
 
 "Don't, Hugh." 
 
 Father got up and began to walk the room 
 greatly agitated. Vevie, the spiritual echo of 
 another's moods, went to his side, and, slipping 
 her hand into his, gravely kept step with him. 
 Then the greyhound rose and trailed solemnly 
 after them. Father stopped, the black shadow 
 lifted from his face as he sat down and took 
 Vevie on his knee. 
 
 " We make quite a circus, darling, you and I 
 and Calif. Come, let us tell auntie some more 
 of what Mr. Davis said about our fruit ranch."
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 A SECOND STAMPEDE 
 
 I HAD formed the habit, since coming to 
 Coulee valley, of awaking very early, and I 
 usually treated myself, in consequence, to a few 
 minutes silent listening to the chorus of mocking 
 birds, as they sang their loudest in the hour 
 just before dawn. In June they had nested in 
 the cottonwood grove on the flat, just below the 
 turn of the river, and their songs were enough 
 to make one thankful that God had put such 
 bits of feathered melody on earth. In Sep- 
 tember they still haunted the grove, with a less 
 jubilant song. I awoke as usual one morning 
 and lay listening drowsily, knowing that when 
 their more sleepy-headed rivals, the golden 
 robins in the alder thickets along the river 
 itself, took up the strain, it would be time to 
 get up and begin preparations for the day's 
 work. But I was destined not to hear the 
 270
 
 A SECOND STAMPEDE 271 
 
 golden robins that morning, or, if I did, not 
 to heed them ; I was thinking how like half- 
 smothered musical laughter the songs of the 
 mocking birds sounded, when a sharp, insistent 
 whisper reached my ears. " Elsie, Elsie, Elsie ! 
 come down, quick !" The whisper came from 
 Aunt Matilda, and she was not speaking in that 
 tone without reason. I dressed quickly, but 
 silently, in order not to awaken Florence, and 
 stole down to her side as she stood at the foot 
 of the stairs. " Come here," she whispered, 
 taking my hand and leading me to the outer 
 door which stood slightly ajar. "What is 
 that ?" she whispered. " I've been listening to 
 it for the last twenty minutes ; what can it be?" 
 
 I knew what it was. Had I not become 
 familiarized to that sound through long, lonely 
 days on the ranch, until it followed and haunted 
 me, even in dreams? It was the soft thud, 
 thudding, made by the feet of scores of sheep 
 sheep that were being driven rapidly, yet with- 
 out noise, along the sandy highway. 
 
 " It's a drove of sheep, auntie," I whispered
 
 272 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 back, my teeth beginning to chatter, for the 
 hour before dawn is always cold in the valley of 
 San Coulee. 
 
 " Rome said that there was no drove but ours 
 within a hundred miles," murmured Aunt Ma- 
 tilda. 
 
 " This may be a drove that is being driven 
 down to the winter range in Southern Colorado 
 from some place further up. You know Rome 
 said that the shortest and easiest pass through 
 the mountains, to the south, lies along the 
 Coulee." 
 
 " I wish I could get a glimpse of their ear- 
 marks," aunt whispered, anxiously, without 
 heeding my explanation. 
 
 " Why, Aunt Matilda !" I exclaimed, startled. 
 "You surely cannot think that these are our 
 sheep! And Felix on guard, and the gates 
 locked !" 
 
 " A bullet would kill Felix as quickly as it 
 would a man, Elsie ; and as for the gates " 
 
 I caught up a shawl. "Aunt Matilda, I am 
 going to find out whose sheep they are. I am
 
 A SECOND STAMPEDE 273 
 
 going to the top of that rock beside the readjust 
 as it turns toward the upper valley. I can slip 
 along the underbrush and no one will see me." 
 
 " I suppose you can, but it's so dark you can 
 make out nothing." 
 
 " It's growing lighter every minute ; it will 
 be quite light enough for me to see the sheep 
 by the time I get there ; I shall know then 
 whether it's worth while for me to go out on the 
 range." 
 
 " Go then, but be careful. Oh, Elsie, be 
 careful ! Stay. I will go with you." 
 
 " No, no, indeed, Aunt Matilda ! I shall be 
 safer alone. I know the road so much better 
 than you." 
 
 " That is true ; go at once." 
 
 The rock in question was fully a mile away, 
 and the sheep were now nearly abreast of the 
 house. We had closed the door and, screened 
 by the darkness, were peering from a window. 
 It was impossible to distinguish any separate 
 form ; only a moving mass of lighter darkness 
 as the sheep trotted swiftly past. If the 
 18
 
 274 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 driving was legitimate it was merciless; the 
 poor creatures were too hard-pressed to waste 
 breath in making complaint. I made out 
 faintly, one, two, three large, vague forms fol- 
 lowing close in the rear of the sheep and knew 
 that they were those of mounted men. But 
 how still they were ! There was absolutely no 
 sound of a horse's footfall ; it might have been, 
 for all the noise they made, a spectral flock, fol- 
 lowed by phantom riders. I stole to the back 
 door, opened and closed it softly, made my 
 way past the hay stacks and corral and so down 
 into a ravine that ran for some distance nearly 
 parallel with the road. I stumbled and fell a 
 good many times, running in such haste and 
 in darkness, but I picked myself up and ran 
 the faster for every recurring delay. I tore 
 my dress from the sharp branches of wait-a-bit 
 thorns, and in doing so scratched my face until 
 it bled. My hands were bruised and skinned 
 from contact with sharp fragments of rock, as 
 I flung them out wildly in the effort to break 
 the force of my frequent tumbles ; but I ran on.
 
 A SECOND STAMPEDE 275 
 
 I must reach that rock and scale it before it was 
 light enough for those advancing horsemen to 
 see me, and the daylight grew apace. All the 
 time that soft thud, thud, thud came swiftly 
 along the road, but always a little farther 
 behind me, so that I knew I was distancing 
 the flock. I was spent and breathless, my 
 knees shook under me, when, all at once, a 
 blacker darkness loomed before me. I had 
 reached the end of the ravine, and the barring 
 darkness was the rock itself. I climbed it 
 almost breathless, and lay along its top entirely 
 concealed from the observation of any one be- 
 neath, by a friendly fringe of bushes, yet 
 having an unobstructed view of the road as it 
 wound along below me. The windings of the 
 road obliged the sheep drivers to cover a mile 
 and a half to my one, so I had time to regain 
 my breath, and to break off a branch or two 
 from the friendly bushes and stick them up 
 in front of me for a more effectual screen, 
 before the foremost of the sheep came in sight. 
 It was now quite light. I looked at them,
 
 276 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 and the one look was enough. They were 
 ours. I could not help thinking, even then, 
 that if they were to be so mercilessly driven it 
 was fortunate for them that they had not to 
 carry the heavy fleeces that they had lately 
 worn. 
 
 I was bent on finding out who was driving 
 them, and that proved an easy task. Safely 
 past our house and out of earshot they had re- 
 laxed their caution and were talking in low 
 tones, but their conversation was anything but 
 amiable. 
 
 " I wouldn't a had it happen for the value of 
 the whole denied flock," declared a voice that I 
 knew, and that, heard now, brought my heart 
 into my mouth. " The whole thing's been purty 
 nigh a fizzle, jest on account of your bein' so 
 everlastingly ready with your shootin' irons." 
 
 The voice was that of Mr. Seaton. Another 
 voice replied harshly : 
 
 " What's the use of makin' such a fuss about 
 that ? I couldn't help it ; it was him or me. I 
 took him."
 
 A SECOND STAMPEDE 277 
 
 " I'd a liked it better if it had been t'other 
 way," muttered Seaton, savagely. 
 
 " Say," retorted the second speaker, drawing 
 rein directly beneath my rock I now saw why 
 the horses' feet made no sound, they were tied 
 up in heavy folds of cloth " if you've got any 
 more o' that kind o' talk keep it for your own 
 use. Whose been so plumb crazy to make 
 trouble for them tenderfoots all the time ? I 
 know what's the matter with you ! You're mad 
 'cause they saved the clip in spite of ye, and 
 'cause Roy Jones give up tryin' to drive 'em out 
 after what they had done for his wife. They 
 wouldn't a had no trouble gettin' herders, 
 nuther, if you hadn't a gone 'round among the 
 Mexicans and " 
 
 " Shet up ! What's the use o' hollerin' all 
 that stuff so as it can be heard a mile ? Keep 
 these sheep rovin' if you expect to git any pay 
 for it out o' me !" 
 
 They rode on out of sight and sound, still 
 grumbling. I got down from my perch and 
 walked slowly home, walked slowly into the
 
 278 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 house and told the assembled family they were 
 all up by this time what had happened and 
 who had engineered the work. Not much was 
 said. Seaton's treachery was too great for mere 
 words to express. It was crushing ; it was be- 
 yond belief. After breakfast I put up the sup- 
 ply of food that we carried daily to Felix, and, 
 tying on my hat, told Johnny to bring up my 
 horse. I had not been able to touch a morsel 
 myself, and Aunt Matilda remonstrated when 
 she saw Luck at the door. 
 
 " I don't see that there's any use in your 
 going out to-day, Elsie, if the sheep are gone. 
 You look like a ghost, and you have eaten no 
 breakfast. Wait until you are feeling better." 
 
 " I shall not feel better until I know what has 
 become of Felix." 
 
 " Very well ; if you do not come back soon 
 I'll send Florence out with something for you. 
 It may be that they have left us a few sheep." 
 
 " That is not at all likely." 
 
 It did not take long for fleet-footed Luck to 
 reach the scene of our daily labors. I rode up
 
 8 
 
 3 13
 
 A SECOND STAMPEDE 279 
 
 to the corral that we had left all right the night 
 before. It was not all right now. The gates 
 had been beaten down and thrown aside as 
 something that there would be no more use 
 for. There were four or five dead sheep ; 
 they had, seemingly, been trampled to death 
 in the terrified rush out of the corral. Felix 
 was nowhere in sight. I rode up and down, 
 calling to him, until a little tawny mound, 
 a few yards from the entrance to the corral, 
 attracted my attention. The mound had not 
 been there the day before. I rode close to it. 
 I dismounted and fell upon my knees beside it. 
 Only a dog ! Only a dog ! But the dog was 
 Felix dead.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 A SERIOUS ACCIDENT 
 
 NEARLY every one has noticed how, after a 
 long lapse of time in which, apparently, nothing 
 happens, events come crowding one upon an- 
 other, seeming to culminate with startling 
 rapidity, so much so that one is swept quite out 
 of his ordinary routine by them and left at the 
 mercy of circumstances beyond his control. 
 
 Such was the stage of experience that we now 
 entered on with the second stampeding of the 
 flock. This stampede, unlike the other, was 
 eminently successful; the sheep had vanished 
 beyond our ken. I did not ride directly home 
 after finding poor Felix's body, but made a 
 detour that took me around by the mine where 
 Rome was working. I found him engaged in 
 washing out a pan of black sand. He was using 
 a kind of rough rocker that he had built him- 
 self, and the sparkling water of his newly-made 
 280
 
 A SERIOUS ACCIDENT 281 
 
 ditch was doing the most of the work. He 
 came to my side when he saw me, and when I 
 told him my story his slow anger kindled as I 
 had never seen it before. 
 
 " You go home and say nothing," he told me. 
 " I am going to get on the trail of those fellows ; 
 I'm going to bring them to time, too. They're 
 going to be surprised in more ways than one 
 when I catch up with them. I won't try to get 
 back the sheep ; but I reckon we can fix it so 
 that the fellows who took 'em '11 think best to 
 pay for 'em before they get through with it. 
 Your folks '11 be willing to part with 'em I 
 s'pose?" 
 
 " I'm sure they will, Rome," I answered. I 
 looked at the water of the San Coulee as it 
 flowed past, clear, swift, and thought of the lower 
 valley that was, through its ministry, to blossom 
 as the rose. Rome shoved back the wooden 
 rocker and straightened his bent shoulders. 
 
 "Well," he said, " I guess I'll just get a bite 
 to eat, then I'll look around a little and kind o* 
 see what we can do for Mr. Seaton and his
 
 282 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 friends." He turned expeditiously toward the 
 cabin beyond the ditch, and I, glad to feel that 
 his broad shoulders were bearing a share of this 
 new burden, turned the pony's head homeward. 
 There had been a change in the weather. 
 The air was still, here in the sheltered valley, 
 but cutting, and the cold increased as evening 
 drew on. Canon and pine-clad slope were 
 already dark with shadows, and up on Mount 
 Kenneth the snow streamers, red as blood 
 in the glow of sunset, danced like a wilder 
 kind of Aurora Borealis. Throughout the day 
 gray clouds had been hanging around the mon- 
 arch's brow, without descending below timber 
 line, and now as the rising wind scattered them 
 a fresh fall of snow was revealed. The wind 
 was making the most of it. The evening star 
 had risen, and was shining above the serried 
 peaks of the Wind River range. I rode onward 
 slowly, thinking how much warmer the far 
 mountains looked than those close at hand. I 
 was aroused from my star-gazing and brought 
 back to the cruel realities of the present
 
 A SERIOUS ACCIDENT 283 
 
 abruptly enough when I arrived in sight of the 
 house. Although we were usually so careful of 
 our invalid, on this chill evening of all others, 
 doors were open, lights were flashing, as though 
 carried in haste from room to room. 
 
 My heart sank with a terrible premonition of 
 what had happened. The heart-breaking words 
 of an old, old text flashed through my mind : 
 " Man born of woman is of few days and full 
 of trouble ; he fleeth as a shadow and con- 
 tinueth not and continueth not and con- 
 tinueth not." It had been a hard day. I 
 bowed my face over Luck's mane, shuddering. 
 My heart contracted as it might if a merciless 
 hand had suddenly closed upon it. Florence 
 had seen me ; she came running out, crying, 
 " Oh, Elsie ! Elsie ! Such a dreadful thing has 
 happened !" 
 
 My lips were stiff, but I managed to articu- 
 late, faintly, " He is gone !" 
 
 " Oh, no, no !" she exclaimed, with comfort- 
 ing literalness, " he didn't get a chance to go at 
 all ; the horse threw him, and "
 
 284 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 But, in the revulsion of feeling that swept over 
 me as she went on happily not realizing my 
 mistake I did not, for the moment, compre- 
 hend her words. It was but for an instant; 
 then I understood. Far more alarmed by my 
 long absence than he would have been but for 
 the events of the preceding night, and alone 
 with Vevie, father had decided that he must go 
 in search of me. Aunt Matilda and Florence 
 were away, having taken Now Then and Billy 
 for a look around the valley in the quite useless 
 expectation that they might come upon some 
 knowledge of the agency through which our 
 sheep had been spirited away. It was late in 
 the afternoon that father told Johnny to saddle 
 Chris for him. Now Chris, meek as he was to 
 look upon, was, as all who had the pleasure of 
 his intimate acquaintance knew, extremely 
 treacherous. It was chiefly owing to that un- 
 desirable trait that he had been allowed to spend 
 his time in the pasture, growing fat, while his 
 mates did the work. 
 
 Johnny seldom expressed an opinion, but, as
 
 A SERIOUS ACCIDENT 285 
 
 he brought the horse to the door, in obedience 
 to orders, he ventured to remonstrate against 
 father's attempting to ride him. 
 
 " I 'low this yeller broncho's goin' to buck," he 
 said earnestly. " He's been on grass a long 
 time. Sometimes good horses buck when they've 
 rested more than they ought to; mean horse 
 like this one will buck, sure." 
 
 Father had not forgotten that he had insisted 
 upon the purchase of the gentle-mannered, yel- 
 low broncho against the advice of Mr. Seaton. 
 It had already been demonstrated that Mr. 
 Beaton's judgment in regard to horses was good, 
 but Johnny's words touched his pride. 
 
 " The horse is all right," he said. " Bring 
 him up to the block and I'll mount. Vevie," 
 he continued, walking toward the great 
 smoothly-sawed section of a log that, placed on 
 end, served the purpose of a horse block, " tell 
 your aunt that I have gone out toward the gate- 
 way to look for Elsie." The only horse that 
 father had bestrode since that unlucky day's ex- 
 perience as a sheep herder, was Luck, a horse
 
 286 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 of principle, who trod as carefully with father 
 on his back as he might have done with a basket 
 of eggs. Vevie had seen him upon Luck, and, 
 in her eyes all horses were equally trustworthy. 
 
 " Don't go far, papa !" she called after him as 
 he turned Chris's head toward the highway. 
 
 " I won't, dear," he replied, and he did 
 not. 
 
 Aunt Matilda and Florence, riding toward 
 the house, quickened their horses' speed into a 
 mad gallop as the sound of a child's voice, rend- 
 ing the air with wild shrieks, came to their ears. 
 
 Father was discovered lying motionless, face 
 downward, in the highway. Vevie was on the 
 ground beside him, her arms thrown over him, 
 and screaming wildly, while poor, lame Johnny, 
 his feeble wits quite scared out of him, stood 
 beside them wringing his hands and crying but 
 making no attempt to render aid. And yellow 
 Chris, with the saddle turned under him, stood 
 at a little distance, composedly cropping the 
 pansy-bed in the front yard. 
 
 They managed, among them, to carry father
 
 A SERIOUS ACCIDENT 287 
 
 into the house, and to quiet Vevie, whose case 
 had seemed for the time being nearly as critical 
 as his. But all their efforts to restore him to 
 consciousness had proved fruitless. 
 
 " We must have a doctor, Elsie. You must 
 find Rome and get him to go to the Agency for 
 the doctor," exclaimed Aunt Matilda, as I ran 
 into the house. I knew that it would be useless 
 to go after Rome. I had already dispatched 
 him upon another errand, in which direction I 
 could not tell. Going to father's bedside I 
 looked at him steadily " he fleeth as a shadow 
 as a shadow and continueth not." The 
 words tortured me. I pushed them aside by an 
 effort of will so great that I seemed to have sud- 
 denly and breathlessly performed some exhaust- 
 ing physical labor, but they were gone and I 
 could think. I would not let myself be fright- 
 ened, though the face that I looked down upon 
 was deadly white and still, and the closed eyes 
 gave no gleam of life, for I knew that I must 
 make the night ride to the Agency. There was 
 no doctor nearer, no one but me to go. I had
 
 288 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 been in the saddle all day and was, without 
 knowing it, faint with hunger and fatigue. It 
 would have been as reasonable to expect lame 
 Johnny to brave the perils of the lonely way as 
 to expect it of Florence ; besides no other mem- 
 ber of the household knew the trail so well. 
 There was no time to hunt for any other mes- 
 senger. Father's life, perhaps, depended upon 
 the passing moments. Aunt had ascertained 
 that his heart was beating faintly, I must go 
 before those feeble heart-beats ceased altogether. 
 " Johnny, give Luck some oats ; be quick," I 
 said. " Don't take off the saddle. I am going to 
 the Agency for the doctor." 
 
 " You !" cried Aunt Matilda. " Oh, no, Elsie ! 
 You must not ; you have been out all day " 
 
 " I am going, aunt, there is no one else ; I 
 can get the doctor here before morning by 
 going over the mountain." 
 
 " Over the mountain ! Elsie, you shall not 
 attempt that ; it has been snowing up there, the 
 trail will be lost ; you shall not go." 
 
 " I ain sorry to be obliged to disobey you,
 
 A SERIOUS ACCIDENT 289 
 
 aunt. But go I will ; please don't try to stop 
 me. I can do it." 
 
 Florence was chafing father's nerveless hands ; 
 Aunt Matilda had been trying to force some 
 stimulant between his closed teeth. I remem- 
 ber how they both ceased their ministrations to 
 turn and stare at me as I stood by the table in 
 the lamplight. 
 
 " You must have a cup of coffee," aunt said. 
 Fortunately the half-filled coffee pot was on the 
 stove. She poured out a cup for me and hastily 
 cut a slice of bread and meat. " Eat," she said, 
 thrusting them into my hands. "You must, 
 Elsie; it is for strength." I ate and drank 
 hastily, then, putting on a heavy coat of father's 
 over my usual riding dress, and drawing on a 
 pair of long fur gloves I went out to where 
 Johnny was waiting with Luck. Florence, 
 bending again over father, did not heed my 
 going, but Aunt Matilda and Vevie followed 
 me to the horse block. " God bless you for a 
 brave girl, Elsie," aunt whispered, kissing me, 
 and Vevie, throwing her arms around my neck, 
 19
 
 290 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 sobbed. " There are white angels in the snow 
 up on Mount Kenneth ; I have seen them play- 
 ing at sunset. If you get lost, ask them to tell 
 you the way." 
 
 " I am sure the white angels of Kenneth will 
 know one way, darling," I could not help say- 
 ing, with a sickening sense of the loneliness 
 and cold of those far-off heights, that, as I 
 looked upward in the moonlight, seemed to 
 pierce the heavens. " But I know the trail ; I 
 shall not get lost; good-bye, and keep good 
 courage." 
 
 I shook the bridle reins and Luck struck into 
 a swift lope that soon took us to the point where 
 we turned from the highway into Mount Ken- 
 neth trail. My eyes were keen or I could not 
 have distinguished the blind pathway, hidden, 
 as it was, among the shadows of the rocks and 
 trees. Fortunately, the full moon, early to- 
 night, had risen, and its mellow light showed 
 the way clearly enough if one only kept a 
 sharp lookout. One who had not been over 
 the trail could scarcely have remembered its
 
 A SERIOUS ACCIDENT 291 
 
 landmarks. Now a blasted tree, weird and 
 ghostly in the strange light, a jutting rock, an 
 isolated patch of jack-oaks, a shelf of crumbling 
 shale, or a bit of level sward. 
 
 Up, up, still upward we toiled, brave Luck 
 settling down to his task with an unflinching 
 courage and perseverance, but speed was now 
 out of the question. He could only climb. An 
 hour passed ; two hours. The scattering belts 
 of evergreens, the frequent park-like openings, 
 where herds of half-wild cattle cropped the 
 insufficient herbage, were left behind. The 
 trail, always leading steadily upward into an 
 atmosphere that grew as steadily colder entered 
 a dark forest of cedars, and it was then that I 
 remembered something that I once heard Rome 
 say of the cedar forests of Mount Kenneth. 
 
 I drew rein, and, leaning forward on Luck's 
 neck, strained eyes and ears, striving to pierce 
 the darkness, to catch some sound that should 
 tell what was before us on the route that we 
 must traverse. Luck, eager to have done with 
 the night's work, pawed impatiently. How
 
 292 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 loudly his iron-shod hoof clattered upon the 
 rock. I shivered with something that was not 
 cold. 
 
 " Be quiet ! Luck. Be quiet !" I whispered 
 imploringly in the alert ear bent back to catch 
 the sound of my voice. " Luck," I whispered, 
 scarcely knowing what I said or did, " I am 
 afraid ! I am afraid !" 
 
 The pony tossed his head, tugging at the bit. 
 Somehow, the resolute action shamed me into 
 fresh courage. I thought of father lying so 
 still down there in the valley, and shook the 
 bridle reins again. " Go on, Luck ; Vevie's 
 angels are above us." I said it aloud, as, leav- 
 ing the clear moonlight, we were instantly 
 swallowed up in the black shadow of the cedar 
 forest.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 AMONG THE SNOW WRAITHS 
 
 IT was only by a superhuman effort of self- 
 control that I refrained from urging fleet-footed 
 Luck at speed through the unknown terrors 
 of the cedar forest. Knowing that his strength 
 must be reserved, as far as possible, for the 
 last, fierce, breathless scramble above timber 
 line, which would bring us to the wide, white 
 desolation of the snow-fields, I held him and 
 tried to forget what Rome had said, at a time 
 when the saying was of so little moment. ' He 
 had told us that if ever he particularly wanted 
 to get a bear he should go up into the cedar 
 forests on Mount Kenneth. Bears, he said, 
 were extravagantly fond of the small round 
 cedar berries that covered the ground under 
 the cedar trees so thickly in the fall of the 
 year. " Night is their favorite time for feed- 
 ing ; 'specially moonlight nights," he had said. 
 
 293
 
 294 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 " I wouldn't be afraid to bet that I could get a 
 bear 'most any time that I took a notion to lay 
 in wait for him, up among the rocks there." 
 An accident among those snow-fields that 
 we were steadily nearing, or to be overcome 
 with cold or fatigue, meant certain death, so I 
 held Luck in and tried to think of other things 
 than bears. I thought of father lying so still 
 on the bed down there thousands of feet below ; 
 of the sheep, wandering among these hills at 
 the mercy of those brutish men, or of wild and 
 roving animals ; of Rome and his noble help- 
 fulness ; of Donald Arleigh and the shock that 
 it must have been to him to find us gone 
 supposing, always, that he still cared for us a 
 little but all was of no use. Rome's careless 
 words came as a refrain to which my throb- 
 bing pulses and the pony's regular hoof-beats 
 kept measure. Sick with terror, I leaned for- 
 ward on Luck's neck, prepared, if I heard the 
 slightest sound, to give him the word to go. 
 And yet what madness to urge a horse to 
 speed on such a trail as this !
 
 AMONG THE SNOW WRAITHS 295 
 
 Half delirious as I was with the accumulat- 
 ing terrors of the lonely way, I yet realized 
 that I should not make such a demand upon 
 the willing servant who carried me so bravely, 
 as long as I could keep myself from it. The 
 trail through the cedars was short. Bending 
 low over the saddle and straining my eyes to 
 pierce the gloom, I caught the gleam of moon- 
 light on the trail ahead. At the same time 
 there came to my ears the soft pit-a-pat, pit-a- 
 pat of some creature who was following along 
 through the dark trail behind me ; some crea- 
 ture with padded feet, not hoofs. In the ex- 
 tremity of my terror, instead of urging Luck to 
 greater speed, as had been my previous impulse, 
 I drew rein, and, wheeling sharply around, 
 facing the back trail, waited. I had not the 
 slightest doubt but that a bear was after me. 
 I do not know why I simply sat and awaited his 
 approach instead of flying, but that was what 
 I did. It was then that a gleam of common 
 sense came mercifully through the benumbing 
 fog of fear that paralyzed my faculties.
 
 296 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 I observed that Luck showed no uneasiness 
 whatever ; on the contrary, his alertly-pointed 
 ears and outstretched muzzle seemed to evince 
 that he scented a friend. 
 
 I had just comprehended this when a long, 
 slender, white body emerged from the shadow 
 of the cedars, and, pausing in front of my 
 horse, looked up at me expectantly. 
 
 "Calif! O Calif! Is it you? Is it you, 
 dear Calif?" the relief was so great that I 
 covered my face with my hands and sobbed 
 aloud from sheer nervous re-action. Luck and 
 Calif were the best of friends, as was natural 
 between two such intelligent animals, and now, 
 when Calif, distressed at my outburst, reared 
 up beside him and put both forepaws in my 
 lap, rubbing his slender nose sympathetically 
 against my shoulder, Luck only turned his 
 head, watching proceedings. "I don't know 
 how you ever made up your mind to leave 
 Vevie, Calif," I said, checking my sobs at last 
 and patting his head thankfully, " but I'm 
 glad you've come."
 
 AMONG THE SNOW WRAITHS 297 
 
 I found out afterward, on inquiry, that 
 Vevie, and not Calif, was entitled to the credit 
 of his brave following ; she told me about it, 
 and these are her words : 
 
 " When I went into the house," said Vevie, 
 " and cried because papa was hurt and it was 
 night, and you were going over the mountain, 
 Calif came and looked at me, so sorry. I 
 thought how Felix was dead, and how you loved 
 him, and how he would have gone with you, 
 maybe, if he had been alive, and how nothing 
 could have hurted you then, and I told Calif all 
 about it. I told him to follow you. He didn't 
 seem to want to go at first. I don't think it 
 was because he wasn't willing, though the rocks 
 do cut his feet. Then I took him to the barn 
 and showed him that Luck was gone, and I 
 asked him to smell of your old riding glove, and 
 of Luck's track, and I said, ' Go find them, 
 Calif, find them !' and he started right off." 
 
 I am sure that no one else could have made 
 the greyhound understand what was wanted, 
 but, indeed, it seemed at times as if he compre-
 
 298 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 liended her every word. An hour afterward I 
 was sorry that he had come, notwithstanding 
 the comfort his presence had brought me. But 
 it was only in a dazed way, for the strain upon 
 my own endurance left little ability to feel 
 for another's distress. We were climbing the 
 heights now, and the air was piercingly cold. 
 Luck knew the trail so much better than I that 
 I left the matter of finding it entirely to him. 
 We passed the last cluster of scattering firs, 
 dwarfed and tortured into all sorts of grotesque 
 shapes by the never-ending struggle with storm 
 and cold. Sliding and stumbling, we scrambled 
 up the loose shale rocks above timber line and 
 entered upon the most perilous stage of the 
 night's adventurous trip. I was by this time so 
 numb with cold and fatigue that I frequently 
 caught myself swaying in the saddle, but I 
 rallied my sinking energies as I caught a 
 glimpse of something whiter than moonlight 
 beneath Luck's feet. We were entering upon 
 the snow fields, white, wide, still, swung mid- 
 way between the far-off earth beneath and the
 
 AMONG THE SNOW WRAITHS 299 
 
 steel-like glitter of the far-off stars above. It 
 was a region of chaos, of death, where a silence 
 that was never broken, a cold that never re- 
 laxed, reigned supreme. The icy blast seemed, 
 despite the thick, fur-lined gloves, to flay the 
 skin from my stiffening fingers as Luck went 
 steadily on, and I caught the full force of its 
 merciless sweep. Calif, blinded by its savage 
 fury, sought shelter beside the horse, growling 
 and whimpering, but with no thought of desertion 
 in his loyal heart. I tried to speak a reassuring 
 word to him, but the wind, the night wind that 
 always blows on Kenneth, and whose fantastic 
 orgies I had so often watched with interest from 
 the warm shelter of the valley, tore the words 
 from my lips and beat in my face until, gasping 
 and suffocated, I gave up all attempts to speak. 
 The trail winds for three miles among the rocks 
 and precipices that the snow treacherously con- 
 ceals without robbing of their danger. Then 
 it drops doAvn to timber line again, and so on 
 through a dense pine forest to the outskirts of 
 the Red Cliff Reservation. But, after a little,
 
 300 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 the way did not seem long to me, or lonely. I 
 heard, vaguely, as in a dream, a low voice crying. 
 Was it Florence, bending over father ? No ; it 
 was Felix Felix, as he had cried that day after 
 his search in the mountains for the stampeded 
 sheep, when I had pulled the cactus thorns 
 from his torn and bleeding feet and bound them 
 up in soft cloths. " Felix, Felix !" I gasped 
 faintly ; " where are the sheep ?" The sound 
 of my own voice steadied my reeling senses. I 
 remembered that Felix was dead. It was Calif 
 who was whimpering piteously at my side, but, 
 in a moment, I no longer heard him, for before 
 me, tall and white and whirling lightly over 
 the snow, all about us in the moonlight, were 
 the white angels of Mount Kenneth. 
 
 They waved their arms, beckoning me, they 
 beat the air with wide, noiseless wings ; their 
 invisible buoyant feet spurned the snow beneath 
 with a soft hissing sound. " They are calling 
 us to follow them, Luck," I muttered. " They 
 are saying, Come !" If I tried, as I think I did, 
 to force Luck from the trail to engage in a stern
 
 AMONG THE SNOW WRAITHS 301 
 
 chase after the snow wraiths of Kenneth, he was 
 too wise to obey me, but what he did, or I, or 
 Calif, or when we left the white waste of death 
 and dropped down into, the balsamic warmth of 
 the pine forest, I have no means of knowing. 
 My last confused, distorted recollections are of 
 the driving snow wraiths, and the dim anguish 
 of the thought that we must follow where they 
 led. How the ride terminated was told me 
 afterward, and I will tell it now. 
 
 It was after twelve o'clock that night that my 
 friend, Running Wolf, having finished his pipe, 
 laid it aside with a prodigious yawn, and started 
 to crawl into the pile of blankets lying on the 
 floor, blankets being the Indian excuse for a 
 bed. Just then he heard the sound made by 
 slow, cautious footsteps as they stole past his 
 dwelling. He stood still, with bent head, listen- 
 ing. The slow footsteps that had lagged a little 
 before his tepee, went on steadily. Running 
 Wolf raised the flap of his tepee and peeped out. 
 He was an Indian and not given to alarm, but 
 his description of what he saw was :
 
 302 THE GIRL RANCHEES 
 
 " I have a piece of ice lay all 'long way down 
 my back ; my hair grow stiff and stand up. 
 Right before, going slow, slow, with his head 
 hung down so that his nose was touchin' the 
 ground, was my totem ! The great white wolf 
 that goes through the village of th Indians 
 when any of the people are to die. I had no 
 fear. No. But the Indians are no more fit to 
 die. They are sluggish cowards who eat the 
 food the white man throws them, same like his 
 dog eats. And the squaws ? When is a squaw 
 ever fit for death ? Then I looked some more, 
 hoping the wolf would go on, for whoever the 
 white Manitou of the wolf looks upon, dies, and 
 it was not a wolf at all, but the great white dog 
 of the little mist squaw of the San Coulee. And 
 he was following a pony that had something 
 lying across his back, and I went out." 
 
 It seems I had only consciousness enough left 
 to cling to the saddle upon which I was lying, 
 rather than sitting, when Running Wolf came 
 to my aid. How slowly, with what infinite care 
 Luck must have made the descent of the moun-
 
 AMONG THE SNOW WRAITHS 303 
 
 tain, not to have displaced the helpless rider 
 swaying upon his back ! He remembered the 
 Agency where we had been before, and, after a 
 moment's indecision at the tepee of Running 
 Wolf, had started to take me to the house where 
 he and I had been during my former visit. 
 
 It was hours afterward, and full daylight, 
 when I recovered consciousness. There was an 
 odor of drugs in the air, a murmur of low voices 
 near me and a sense of warmth, of rescue. But 
 where was Luck, and Calif, and the doctor ? I 
 stirred, and every bone and muscle in my body 
 promptly responded by adding the force of 
 their strength to the one great ache that seemed 
 to enwrap my bruised and tortured body like an 
 all-enveloping garment. I groaned and opened 
 my eyes. A delicate white head was thrust 
 eagerly forward and laid upon my breast, and 
 Calif's yellow eyes gazed solemnly into mine. 
 
 "What has happened, Calif?" I whispered, 
 faintly. Calif did not answer, nor object to 
 being gently pushed aside, as some one bent 
 over me.
 
 304 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 A familiar voice said quietly : " You are 
 iri the house of the agent of the Red Cliff 
 Reservation, lying on a lounge in the front 
 room where the sun can look at you." 
 
 "Where is Luck?" 
 
 " Luck," the voice repeated musingly, and 
 added, " What more natural, under the cir- 
 cumstances, than that she should be inquiring 
 for the horse that saved her life? We'll 
 chance it that Luck is the horse." In a louder 
 tone the speaker continued, " Luck is in the 
 barn." 
 
 " I hope they gave him oats," I murmured ; 
 " he doesn't like corn." 
 
 " He shall have oats, then, the hero, he 
 should have them if every grain were balanced 
 against a grain of gold." 
 
 I was still confused, and it did not lessen my 
 confusion to look up, as I did, into the smiling, 
 tender face bending over me ; the face of one 
 who was, at last accounts, so many hundred 
 miles away. 
 
 "There were angels," I stammered, foolishly,
 
 AMONG THE SNOW WKAITHS 305 
 
 " tliey beckoned to me were you you with 
 them or " with a sudden, awakening attempt 
 to again grasp my lapsing senses " was it the 
 snow wreath ?" 
 
 " I think it must have been the snow wreaths, 
 Elsie, dear, for I have not been in the company 
 of any angels until now." 
 
 All at once I remembered the ride and its 
 purpose. I sat up, wildly throwing aside the 
 coverings that had been put over me. 
 
 " Oh, Donald, Donald ! I came for the doctor, 
 father is hurt ; he may be killed !" 
 
 Donald laid me gently back upon the pillows. 
 " He's all right, Elsie. I came from there not 
 long ago ; I came by way of the plains instead 
 of over the mountain. You had been here, 
 lying unconscious for three hours when I got 
 here. Your father was not hurt; he was 
 stunned by the fall ; when he came to as he 
 did a few minutes after you left he was as well 
 as ever. But he was wild when he heard what 
 you had done. He said that you were always 
 afraid when alone out-of-doors after nightfall, 
 20
 
 306 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 and he seemed to think that night up on those 
 snow fields wouldn't be a very comfortable 
 place She's awake now, Doctor," he broke off 
 suddenly, as a middle-aged, military looking 
 gentleman stepped into the room and approached 
 the lounge. 
 
 The doctor felt my pulse, lifted one of my 
 eyelids, and peered into the eye inquiringly, 
 then nodded cheerfully. 
 
 "She will be all right as soon as she gets 
 well rested. But it's been something of a shock. 
 It will take some time for her nerves to recover 
 their tone." 
 
 "What happened to me, Doctor?" 
 
 The doctor smiled quizzically. " As nearly 
 as I can make out you have been very fortunate. 
 Your imagination and the stress you were under, 
 added to the weirdness of your lonely ride, has 
 played some odd pranks with you. But," lie has- 
 tened to add as I felt a wave of color surging 
 over my face, " you have no cause to blush for 
 it. There are few men, let me tell you, who 
 would take that ride at night, and that you are
 
 AMONG THE SNOW WRAITHS 307 
 
 alive to-day you may thank your faithful little 
 pony for and no one else. If he had not kept the 
 trail well, all I have to say is, let well enough 
 alone ; don't try it again." 
 
 The agent's wife herself brought me a de- 
 licious breakfast on a tray and sat beside me, 
 chatting of small, unexciting matters while I 
 ate. Father was not hurt, and over there by 
 the window was Donald Arleigh, Donald who 
 had come back, and whose coming had flooded 
 the world with sunshine. He was not ungrate- 
 ful ; he could explain all. I looked at him with 
 an exultant smile, I was so glad, so glad. 
 Donald met my look and smiled too. 
 
 " Poor Calif did not come off scot free," he 
 remarked as I drank the last drop of my coffee 
 and secretly longed for more; "his paws are 
 badly cut, but he concluded to let me dress 
 them." 
 
 A memory of the sheep-fold, of Felix and a 
 similar service that I had once performed for 
 him, came over me in a wave of pain. 
 
 " I washed Felix's feet and bound them up
 
 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 the day that he brought back the sheep," I said, 
 inconsequently. " But the sheep are lost and 
 Felix is dead." It seemed strange, at the 
 moment, that Felix could not know what loy- 
 alty, what devotion went out of my life when 
 he died.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 MR. SEATON IS CORNERED 
 
 DONALD had hired Mr. Davis' son, Don, to 
 bring him to the Agency, and Don, with his 
 father's horses and carriage, was still waiting. 
 
 I rallied from my stupor so quickly, and 
 was so eager to return, that Donald decided to 
 take me back with him, especially as the doctor 
 declared that the journey would do me less 
 harm than the impatient waiting. We took 
 Calif into the carriage with us and Don rode 
 Luck. 
 
 It was during that long, delicious, restful 
 homeward ride that Donald told why he left us 
 so strangely, and from that day to this I have 
 felt the pangs of remorseful shame because of 
 my unworthy suspicions of him. 
 
 " I know," Donald said, " that Uncle Hugh " 
 there was no relationship between them, but 
 he always called father " Uncle " and Aunt 
 
 309
 
 310 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 Matilda " Aunt," " would never consent to my 
 taking iny money to push his inventions. He 
 would refuse to let me have the formula and 
 the descriptive literature if he knew that I in- 
 tended to embark in any such enterprise. I 
 had absolute faith in the utility of his inven- 
 tions more especially the incombustible wood 
 formula but he had no money to spare in in- 
 troducing it to the notice of the men whom he 
 must reach and influence, the manufacturers. 
 And, indeed, he is not at all the sort of man to 
 go about espousing his own cause. I'm differ- 
 ent, less sensitive, more practical. I knew that 
 as long as Uncle Hugh furnished the brains I 
 could carry out the other part all right." 
 
 " Donald !" 
 
 "It's true, Elsie. Why, your father is a 
 wonderful man ; it's no disparagement to give 
 him the credit of having more brains than I. 
 He has more brains than a dozen ordinary men 
 put together. I had to have money. I took 
 mine, and also took his consent to my using his 
 formulas for granted. If I failed, no one but
 
 MR. SEATON IS CORNERED 811 
 
 I would be the loser. If I won it would be 
 something worth while for us all. I haven't 
 failed, Elsie." I leaned back blissfully in the 
 carriage, watching the fleecy white of the clouds 
 beyond the far northern Buttes. They looked 
 not unlike droves of sheep, and they were van- 
 ishing, vanishing. I had no wish to call them 
 back. 
 
 " There is no occasion for my going into all 
 the details," Donald went on. " More time was 
 required than I had anticipated. I had resolved 
 not to communicate with any of you until I 
 could say definitely whether I had won or lost. 
 I had no idea then that Uncle Hugh's health 
 was in so precarious a state." 
 
 " He grieved so for you, Donald," I could 
 not help telling him. 
 
 " I'm afraid he did, Elsie. I was doing evil 
 that good might follow, and that is always a 
 dangerous experiment. I ought to have writ- 
 ten. I remember, Elsie, that you never cared 
 to know how a thing was done ; it was only the 
 result that interested you, so I will spare you
 
 312 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 the technicalities, but you will not need to be a 
 sheep herder any longer, Elsie." 
 
 " Sheep herding has not hurt me, Donald," I 
 said, truthfully. " It has been a strange, wild 
 experience. I am glad if it's over with, but I 
 am not sorry to have had it." 
 
 "I gathered from what young Davis told me 
 as we were coming over that it's been rather a 
 romantic episode all through, and now that the 
 unfortunate sheep have been burglarized " 
 
 " That's true, if you call it burglary. They 
 have been stolen." 
 
 " Davis said that your friend, Beaumont, had 
 organized a posse that was the impressive way 
 in which he worded it and gone in pursuit of 
 the thieves." 
 
 " I don't know about the posse, I'm sure. I 
 hope he got some one to help him, but he would 
 have gone alone if he could not." 
 
 " There may be some word from him awaiting 
 us by the time we get home." 
 
 There was none, however. Father, whom I 
 had left lying white and still upon his bed the
 
 MK. SEATON IS CORNERED 313 
 
 night before, came to the carriage to help me 
 out. His lips trembled as he looked at me. 
 
 " Elsie, what am I to do with a daughter who 
 will do such reckless things ?" he asked tremu- 
 lously. " Ought I to scold, or bless you ?" 
 
 " Neither, I guess, papa," I whispered, laying 
 my head on his shoulder and giving way to 
 weak tears for a moment. " But you may bless 
 Luck." 
 
 He took off his hat. " God bless and keep 
 my brave little Elsie," he said reverently. 
 
 Don Davis rode up with Luck a few minutes 
 after our arrival. He had followed along the 
 highway instead of obliging the pony to again 
 make the trip over the mountain. Father, 
 Donald, and Florence all went out to the barn 
 with Johnny to see the noble fellow cared for, 
 but I remained lying on the lounge where I had 
 dropped wearily on entering the house. Aunt 
 Matilda, who reproached herself quite cause- 
 lessly for allowing me to go she could not 
 have prevented it sat down by my side and 
 told how Donald had come, just in the nick of
 
 314 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 time. Father had recovered consciousness, and, 
 none the worse for the rough usage he had had, 
 was nearly beside himself with grief at the 
 thing I had undertaken to do on his account. 
 
 " He was declaring that he would take Now 
 Then, who, you know, is safe to ride, and go 
 after you, when Donald came to the door. 
 When he heard the story he made Hugh sit 
 down and keep still. 'I will go and bring 
 Elsie back/ he said. And Hugh has such con- 
 fidence in him he never even asked how he was 
 going about it. He knew that Donald would 
 do everything right. Dear me ! what a bless- 
 ing that boy is, and always has been." 
 
 " And always will be," I added remorsefully. 
 
 Vevie was sitting on the floor beside Calif, 
 who, it appeared to me, was more than willing 
 to accept all the encomiums that she lavished 
 upon him for his bravery. She wiped away 
 some furtive tears when it came to examining 
 his feet. 
 
 "I'm not sorry that he went," she said 
 quickly, in answer to my pitying look. " He
 
 MR. SEATON IS CORNERED 315 
 
 ain't sorry, either, but the cuts on his feet do 
 hurt so !" 
 
 " They will soon heal, dearest." 
 
 " I know they will ; I was just telling 
 him so." 
 
 The others were returning from the barn. 
 As they neared the house we could distinguish 
 other voices mingling with theirs. Aunt Matilda 
 sprang up. " There's Rome !" she cried. She 
 threw the door open, and a striking group filed 
 into the room in response to her " Come in." 
 I sat up, and Vevie and Calif retreated to my 
 side as Rome, the black-browed Roy Jones, and 
 Mr. Seaton, followed by father, Donald, and 
 Florence, entered, filling the little room to over- 
 flowing. 
 
 " You might as well all set down," observed 
 Rome, constituting himself the master of cere- 
 monies. " We've got a considerable business to 
 transact, and might as well do it comfortably." 
 His advice was taken and he proceeded, " You 
 see, Mr. and Miss Stanley, and you, Mr. 
 Arleigh, for they jest said you was one of the
 
 316 THE GIRL EANCHERS 
 
 family and proud you may be of belonging 
 to it" 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " That's right and I s'pose I'd ought to in- 
 clude the girls, sence it was them that " 
 
 " Rome, do go on !" cried Florence, laugh- 
 ingly. " If you are going to include all of us 
 and our ramifications in your preface, you'll 
 never get started." 
 
 " I suppose you're right, Miss Florence," Rome 
 declared, scratching his head ruefully, " for I 
 find that I'm clean run aground now. I reckon 
 I'd best tell the thing that you all want to 
 know without tryin' to put in any frills," which 
 he proceeded to do. The story, without frills, 
 was that Rome and Roy Jones, who volunteered 
 to help him, came up with Mr. Seaton and his 
 helpers, late on the same night that they started 
 out in pursuit. The sheep had been corralled, 
 and the men were guarding them. 
 
 Threatened with exposure to the whole coun- 
 tryside, which could forgive a stampede, but not 
 a theft, Seatoii had reluctantly consented to
 
 MR. SEATON IS CORNERED 317 
 
 accompany them back to the San Coulee and 
 make terms with the owners of the sheep. The 
 flock was left where it had been found, the two 
 men agreeing to remain on guard until they 
 should again hear from Mr. Seaton. " I told 
 him," concluded Rome, summing up, "that 
 sence he seemed to hanker after sheep, he could 
 prob'ly get this flock by payin' a fair price for 
 it ; sheep's gone up." 
 
 " I ain't able to pay no fancy prices," mut- 
 tered Seaton, the bitterness of defeat in his 
 angry voice. He had not spoken before, and it 
 was hard to say whether, looking at him, he 
 seemed more angry or ashamed. " I didn't ask 
 you no fancy price," he continued, appealing to 
 father. 
 
 " That's true," began father, when the hither- 
 to silent Jones, interposed. "The reason he 
 sold so cheap to you was that he was 'lowing to 
 git 'em back fur nothing. Mr. Stanley, you 
 needn't feel obligated to sell 'em back cheap 
 to him, on that account." 
 
 " You've changed yer tune some, about sheep
 
 318 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 ranching since you 'n' your gang tried to stam- 
 pede Stanley's flock in the spring," Mr. Seaton 
 reminded his quondam friend, with a scowl. 
 
 " Not 'bout sheep ranchin' but 'bout some 
 ranchers," replied Mr. Jones, significantly. " I 
 ain't denyin' that I think sheep is a cuss to the 
 country, and I've done my best, 'long back, to 
 drive 'em out. But I ain't no coyote, and, 
 after we all seen how plucky them girls was, 
 'n' how they would keep the flock, or die try in', 
 'n' after what they done fur my wife, I gin 
 it out, that fur's I was concerned, the Stanley 
 sheep ranch would be let alone. I didn't 
 'low that we wanted no more sheep here, but 
 that these wouldn't be teched. And you knew 
 it. That's why you kep' a threatenin' the Mex- 
 icans, so 'st they wouldn't work for Stanley. 
 You wanted a chance to git them yourself. If 
 it hadn't a been fur you, these young ladies 
 wouldn't a been 'bliged t' take the trouble 't 
 fetch a lot of Indians over from the Reserva- 
 tion to shear their sheep." There was, as he 
 said this, a gleam in Mr. Jones' solemn eyes,
 
 ME. SEATON IS CORNERED 319 
 
 that, in any one else, would seem to denote 
 amusement. I wondered, and still wonder, if 
 lie had doubts of the authenticity of our 
 Indians. 
 
 Mr. Seaton, looking the picture of humilia- 
 tion and baffled enterprise, said miserably, as if 
 in extenuation, " I've had hard luck this sum- 
 mer. Two of my horses died, and the cattle 
 business ain't provin' as profitable as the sheep, 
 and I always liked it best, anyway. I wouldn't 
 a sold out in the first place if it hadn't been for 
 you, Roy Jones," who responded promptly, 
 
 " That's not true, and you know it. Now you 
 want to come to Mr. Stanley's terms without no 
 more whining." 
 
 . And that was what he did. He gave father, 
 then and there, a check on the bank where his 
 funds were deposited for the full value of the 
 sheep at the market price. The profit accruing 
 to us from the transaction was enough to make 
 me open my eyes in amazement. 
 
 " I s'pose you won't interfere now with my 
 going back and tending to them sheep," Mr.
 
 320 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 Seaton remarked, sullenly, at the close of the 
 legal formalities. 
 
 " No," father said. " You can go." 
 
 " Wait," interposed Mr. Jones again. " See 
 here, Seaton, I hain't never said nothing 'bout 
 it before, but there's Johnny ; whilst you're 
 settling, settle that !" 
 
 Seaton, who had got upon his feet, sat down 
 suddenly at these words ; his face turned of a 
 chalky whiteness, but he tried to brave it out. 
 
 " I I don't know what you mean !" he 
 gasped. 
 
 " You know it's a penitentiary offense. You 
 got yourself 'pinted Johnny's guardeen a' pur- 
 pose so that you could get a holt of the money 
 that belonged to him from the sale of this place. 
 In other words, you never paid for it. The 
 money that Mr. Stanley paid you for the San 
 Coulee ranch, belongs to Johnny. Now you 
 fork over, or I'll know the reason why." 
 
 Mr. Seaton was vanquished. He drew an- 
 other check in Johnny's favor, and, in addition, 
 a writing which Mr. Jones, who seemed rather
 
 MR. SEATON IS CORNERED 321 
 
 fond of legal phrases, designated as a " deed of 
 relinquishment," giving over to Rome Beau- 
 mont all the powers that he, Mr. Seaton, had 
 hitherto possessed as " the legal guardian of the 
 ward known as John Alton." I have no means 
 of knowing whether the deed was, or would 
 have been binding in the eyes of the law, but it 
 served its purpose. Johnny, when the matter 
 was explained to him, gathered the idea that he 
 belonged henceforth to Rome, and was inordi- 
 nately happy in consequence. 
 
 The San Coulee fruit ranch is an assured 
 success. 
 
 Father's health is fully restored, but he is 
 so interested in the fruit ranch that he leaves 
 to Donald Arleigh the management of those 
 other affairs that his heart was once so set 
 upon. 
 
 It took Rome a long time to persuade Aunt 
 Matilda to forgive him for supposing, as she 
 put it, that he must be gold-washed before he 
 could venture to ask her hand in marriage, 
 but, as the marriage subsequently took place, I 
 21
 
 322 THE GIRL RANCHERS 
 
 suppose she forgave him in the end. They are 
 the active working principals of the fruit ranch, 
 notwithstanding that Rome has amassed a large 
 fortune from the sale of his mine. 
 
 Florence, with leisure and opportunity to 
 make use of her talents, dedicates them, not to 
 money-getting, but to the nobler work of 
 comforting, of uplifting the sick, the sorrow- 
 ful, the heavy-hearted of all classes. 
 
 Vevie and Calif still attend father as faith- 
 fully as twin shadows, and I think that one 
 reason why he finds it so hard to leave his 
 chosen valley, for even the briefest absence, is 
 that he so misses their companionship. 
 
 THE END
 
 <Best 'Books 
 
 FOR <BOYS AND GIRLS 
 
 A 
 
 SERIES of books for young 
 people that contains the latest 
 and best works of the most popular 
 writers for boys and girls. The 
 stories are not only told in an inter- 
 esting and charming manner, but 
 most of them contain something in 
 the way of information or instruction, 
 and all are of a good moral tone. For this reason they 
 prove doubly good reading ; for, while the child is 
 pleasantly employing his time, he is also improving his 
 mind and developing his character. Nowhere can 
 better books be found to put into the hands of young 
 people. They are profusely and handsomely illustrated 
 by the best artists and are well printed on good paper 
 with exceedingly handsome and durable bindings. 
 
 Sold by the leading booksellers everywhere, or sent 
 prepaid on receipt of price. 
 
 Cloth, each, $1.25 
 
 The ^Penn Publishing Company 
 
 923 cARCH STREET PHILADELPHIA
 
 STORIES FOR GIRLS 
 
 The Ferry cMaidofthe Chatiahoochee 
 
 *By (Annie cM. 'Barnes Illustrated by Ida Waugh 
 
 An heroic little Georgia girl, in her father's extremity, takes 
 charge of his ferry, and through many vicissitudes and several 
 impending calamities, succeeds in carrying out her purpose of 
 supporting her invalid parent and his family. The heroine's 
 cheerfulness and hearty good humor, combined with an un- 
 flinching zeal in her determination to accomplish her work, 
 make a character which cannot fail to appeal to young people. 
 
 cA cMaid of the First Century 
 
 *By Lucy Foster cMadison Illustrated by Ida Waugh 
 
 A little maid of Palestine goes in search of her father, who, 
 for political reasons, has been taken as a slave to Rome. She 
 is shipwrecked in the Mediterranean, but is rescued by a 
 passing vessel bound for Britain. Eventually an opportunity is 
 afforded her for going to Rome, where, after many trying and 
 exciting experiences, she and her father are united and his 
 liberty is restored to him. 
 
 cMy Lady ^Barefoot 
 
 'By Mrs. Evelyn Raymond Illustrated by Ida Waugh 
 
 A beautifully told story of the trials of a little backwoods girl 
 who lives in a secluded place with an eccentric uncle, until his 
 death. The privations she undergoes during his life-time, her 
 search for other relatives, her rather uncongenial abode with 
 them, her return to her early home to acquire her uncle's 
 estate, and thus to enjoy a useful and happy life, form a most 
 interesting narrative of a girl whose ruggedness and simplicity 
 of character must appeal to the admiration of all readers. 
 
 2
 
 'Dorothy <Day 
 
 'By Julie cM. Lippmann Illustrated by Ida Waugh 
 
 This is a most interesting story of a bright and spirited young 
 girl whose widowed mother re-marries. The impulsive girl 
 chafes under the new relationship, being unwilling to share 
 with another the bounteous love of her mother which she had 
 learned to claim wholly for her own. By the exercise of great 
 tact and kindness, the obdurate Dorothy is at last won over, 
 and becomes a most estimable girl. 
 
 SWss Wildfire 
 
 <By Julie cM. Lippmann Illustrated by Ida Waugh 
 
 The story of a governess' attempt to win the love and confi- 
 dence of her ward, who, owing to a lack of early restraint, is 
 inclined to be somewhat of a hoyden. The development of 
 the girl's character and her eventual victory over her turbu- 
 lent disposition combine to form a story of unusual merit and 
 one which will hold its reader's eager attention throughout. 
 " A story of girls for girls that teaches a moral without 
 labeling or tagging it at the end." Western Christian 
 Advocate, Cincinnati, O. 
 
 cAn Odd Little Lass 
 
 <ByJessteE. Wright Illustrated by Ida Waugh 
 
 This is a story of the regeneration of a little street waif. She 
 begins life in a lowly court of a large city. Her adventures 
 are numerous, and often quite exciting. After a time she 
 is transplanted to the country, where alter many thrilling 
 experiences she eventually grows into a useful and lovable 
 young woman. The story is pleasantly told, and abounds 
 in interesting incident. 
 
 " The story is an intensely interesting one, and abounds in 
 pleasing and unique situations." Religious Telescope, Dayton, 
 Ohio.
 
 Wyoming Girls 
 
 <By SMrs. Carrie L. ^Marshall Illustrated by Ida Waugh 
 
 Two girls, thrown upon their own resources, are obliged to 
 " prove up " their homestead claim. This would be no very 
 serious matter were it not for the persecution of an unscru- 
 pulous neighbor, who wishes to appropriate the property to 
 his own use. The girls endure many privations, have a num- 
 ber of thrilling adventures, but finally secure their claim and 
 are generally well rewarded for their courage and persever- 
 ance. 
 
 Girl 
 
 <By ZMrs. Carrie L. ^Marshall Illustrated by Ida Waugh 
 
 A story of life on a sheep ranch in Montana. The dangers 
 and difficulties incident to such a life are vividly pictured, and 
 the interest in the story is enhanced by the fact that the ranch 
 is managed almost entirely by two young girls. By their 
 energy and pluck, coupled with courage, kindness, and un- 
 selfishness they succeed in disarming the animosity of the 
 neighboring cattle ranchers, and their enterprise eventually 
 results successfully. 
 
 <An Every-^Day Heroine 
 
 *By cMary <A. Venison Illustrated by Ida Waugh 
 
 The heroine is not an impossible character but only a pure, 
 winsome, earnest girl, who at fourteen years of age is sud- 
 denly bereft of fortune and father and becomes the chief sup- 
 port of a semi-invalid mother. While there are many touching 
 scenes, the story as a whole is bright and cheerful and moves 
 forward with a naturalness and ease that carries its read- 
 ers along and makes them reluctant to put down the book 
 until the end is reached.
 
 Her College 
 
 <By Mrs. Clarke Johnson Illustrated by Ida Waugb 
 
 This is a most interesting and healthful tale of a girl's life in a 
 New England college. The trustful and unbounded love of 
 the heroine for her mother and the mutual and self-sacrificing 
 devotion of the mother to the daughter are so beautifully in- 
 terwoven with the varied occurrences and exciting incidents of 
 college life as to leave a most wholesome impression upon 
 the mind and heart of the reader. 
 
 STORIES FOR <BOYS 
 
 Uncrowning a King 
 
 <By EdwardS. Ellis, <A. M. Illustrated by J. Steeple Vavfs 
 
 A tale of the Indian war waged by King Philip in 1675. The 
 adventures of the young hero during that eventful period, his 
 efforts in behalf of the attacked towns, his capture by the 
 Indians, and his subsequent release through the efforts of 
 King Philip himself, with a vivid account of the tragic death 
 of that renowned Indian chieftain, form a most interesting and 
 instructive story of the early days of the colonies. 
 
 The Young Gold Seekers 
 
 <By Edward S. Ellis, <A. M. Illustrated by F. (A. Carter 
 
 A thrilling account of the experiences of two boys during a 
 trip to the gold fields of Alaska. The hardships that they 
 endure, the disappointments they suffer, the courage and 
 perseverance that they manifest in the face of seemingly 
 insurmountable obstacles, and their eventual success in their 
 undertaking, are all most graphically portrayed. 
 5
 
 True to His Trust 
 
 <By Edward S. Ellis, cA. cM. Illustrated by J. Steeple Vavis 
 
 The hero of this story will win his way at once into the heart 
 of every one, and his pluck and perseverance will carry the 
 sympathy of every reader through his many adventures, strug- 
 gles, and singular experiences. Like all of the author's works, 
 the incidents teach in the most convincing manner that true 
 manliness and sturdy integrity are the only principles through 
 which happiness and success in life are possible. 
 
 Comrades True 
 
 Wy Edward S. Ellis, cA. M. Illustrated 
 
 In following the career of two friends from youth to manhood, 
 the author weaves a narrative of intense interest. This 
 story is more realistic than is usual, as the two heroes pass 
 through the calamitous forest fires in Northern Minnesota and 
 barely escape with their lives. They have other thrilling ad- 
 ventures and experiences in which the characteristics of each 
 are finely portrayed. 
 
 " Among juveniles there is not one of greater interest, or 
 more wholesome influence than ' Comrades True.' " Sentinel, 
 Milwaukee, Wis. 
 
 (Among the Esquimaux 
 
 <By Edward S. Ellis, cA. cM. Illustrated 
 
 The scenes of this story are laid in the Arctic region, the cen- 
 tral characters being two sturdy boys whose adventurous spirit 
 often leads them into dangerous positions. They visit Green- 
 land ; go on a hunting expedition, have a number of stirring 
 adventures, but ultimately reach home safe and sound. 
 
 " A capital and instructive book for boys." Post, Boston, 
 Mass. 
 
 6
 
 The Campers Out 
 
 *By Edward S. Ellis, <A. cM. Illustrated 
 
 Many of the scenes are so vividly described that the reader 
 can, in his imagination, enjoy the excitement of the chase and 
 all the pleasures of a good camping tour. In addition to the 
 vivid descriptions of many exciting adventures, this story 
 teaches a lesson in morals that cannot fail to prove helpful to 
 every reader. 
 
 " Well planned and well written. Full of adventure of just the 
 right sort." Mid- Continent, St. Louis, Mo. 
 
 <At the Siege of Quebec 
 
 ames Otis Illustrated by F. cA. Carter 
 
 Two boys living on the Kennebec River join Benedict Ar- 
 nold's expedition as it passes their dwelling en route for the 
 Canadian border. They, with their command, are taken pris- 
 oners before Quebec. The description of the terrible march 
 through the wilderness, the incidents of the siege, and the dis- 
 astrous assault, which cost the gallant General Montgomery 
 his life, are in the highest degree thrilling, while at the same 
 time true in every particular. 
 
 (Andy's Ward 
 
 <By James Otis Illustrated 
 
 A fascinating narrative of the life and experiences of " Museum 
 Marvels." They dwell in a house owned by a sword-swal- 
 lower, whose wife, the " Original Circassian," is entrusted with 
 its management. The rest of the household includes a dwarf, 
 nick-named the " Major," a fat lady, a giant, and a snake- 
 charmer. The private life of the marvels forms a story full of 
 incident, and one that possesses that peculiar simplicity of 
 style which has won for this author such a host of readers. 
 7
 
 Chasing a Yacht 
 
 ames Otis Illustrated 
 
 A semi-nautical tale of adventure about boys, written for boys, 
 and will certainly be appreciated by boys wherever they may 
 be found. The story of how the heroes, two bright, manly 
 fellows, built a steam yacht, how she was stolen from them, 
 and how they eventually regained possession of her, is full of 
 life and is replete with exciting and interesting incident. 
 
 " Boys who do not read this volume with real pleasure must 
 be hard to suit." Journal, Minneapolis, Minn. 
 
 The ^Braganza diamond 
 
 % James Otis Illustrated 
 
 A. volume that will hold its readers spell-bound as they follow 
 the two boy characters and the bright, courageous girl in 
 their search for the famous diamond. Much useful information 
 is incidentally conveyed and many things with which few 
 persons are familiar are explained. 
 
 " It will rivet the attention of young readers as much as Rob- 
 inson Crusoe." Call, San Francisco, Cal. 
 
 On Wood Cote Island 
 
 <By Elbridge S. brooks Illustrated by Frederic J. 'Boston 
 
 A. trio of bright New England children are given an island 
 on which to spend their summer vacation. Here they es- 
 tablish a little colony, the management of which gives them 
 a large amount of amusement and at times causes some 
 seemingly serious difficulties. In the solution of their per- 
 plexing problems the young people receive much encourage- 
 ment and counsel from the poet Longfellow, whose delightful 
 acquaintance they form in a very unexpected and amusing 
 manner.
 
 Under the ^Tamaracks 
 
 <By Elbridge S. 'Brooks Illustrated 
 
 An interesting and healthful story for boys and girls, repre- 
 senting a summer's outing of young people among the 
 Thousand Islands. It is timed to include the visit of General 
 Grant at Alexandria Bay, and several interesting conversa- 
 tions between one of the boys and the hero of the Rebellion 
 shed pleasing side lights upon the great General's character. 
 
 " General Grant's talks with the heroes will captivate the 
 heart of every boy." Teachers' World, New York. 
 
 In the T)ays of Washington 
 
 'By William cMurray Graydon Illustrated by J. C. Claghorn 
 
 The story opens in Philadelphia just prior to its evacuation by 
 the British in 1778. Nathan Stanbury, a bright lad of seven- 
 teen, joins the Continental Army which is then suffering the 
 hardships of the winter at Valley Forge. A short time later 
 the Battle of Monmouth is fought, and in this the young hero 
 figures quite prominently, as he does afterward at the Massa- 
 cre of Wyoming. 
 
 The Lost Gold cMine 
 
 *By Frank H. Converse Illustrated 
 
 At the opening of this story, the hero, by a singular circum- 
 stance, finds himself in possession of certain papers relating to 
 a gold mine in the far West, and he and his chum conclude to 
 make a search for it. Their untiring efforts are eventually 
 crowned with success, but not until the party ' has suffered 
 many privations and escaped numerous impending dangers 
 such as characterized the early days of the gold fever. 
 9
 
 cMoonshiner* s Son 
 
 *By Will cAllen Ttromgoole Illustrated by F. (A. Carter 
 
 The scene of this dramatic story is laid in the mountains o/ 
 Tennessee amid the haunts of the illicit distillers. The hero 
 is made to suffer many hardships as a result of his father's un- 
 lawful business, but after the latter's tragic death, the boy is af- 
 forded an opportunity of going to a large city, where his 
 sterling merit soon brings him into prominence. The story is 
 full of the most thrilling incidents, and the tone is wholesome 
 and elevating. 
 
 The cMoncasket cMystery 
 
 *By Sidney Marlo*o> Illustrated 
 
 Wise indeed is that teacher or parent who provides his child- 
 ren with such healthful and entertaining reading as this book 
 will prove to be. It is a pleasing story, full of base-ball and 
 fishing experiences, with just sufficient " mystery " to add zest 
 to the tale. The principal character is not called upon 
 to perform any impossible feats, but he exemplifies his char- 
 acter in the pursuits of daily life and always proves faithful to 
 the confidence reposed in him. 
 
 Harry <Ambler 
 
 *By Sidney cMartow Illustrated 
 
 A charming story of a bright boy, that is full of exciting 
 incidents and is told in a pleasing style. It is interesting 
 without being sensational, and incidentally shows that courage 
 and honesty are the sure roads to success. The characteristics 
 displayed by the hero can be emulated with profit by boys 
 generally. The book points out a moral without making that 
 the " reason of being " of the story. 
 10
 
 The Young 'Boatman 
 
 By Horatio cAlger, Jr. Illustrated 
 
 A story of a manly boy, whose fine character is brought in con- 
 tact with a coarse and cruel one, in the person of his stepfather. 
 Perseverance and honesty will always win, as is shown in this 
 charming .story. A young boy, by pluck and energy, over- 
 comes difficulties that would have baffled many an older head. 
 " Grit, the hero, is worthy of his name, and every boy will 
 sympathize with him in his troubles and rejoice with him in 
 his triumphs." Times, Philadelphia. 
 
 The Odds cAgainst Him 
 
 *By Horatio cAlger, Jr. Illustrated 
 
 The book is full of bright, cheerful, and amusing incident, 
 showing that a boy of good, honest, sterling, industrious habits 
 can always secure friends and succeed in earning an honest 
 living, and in spite of formidable obstacles can obtain a posi- 
 tion of comfort and respectability. The hero is full of resolu- 
 tion and pluck, and by diligence and faithfulness he rapidly 
 advances, in spite of the " odds," to success.
 
 CLASSIC STORIES 
 
 The Story of the Iliad 
 
 <By Th-. Ed-ward ^Brooks, <A. M. Illustrated 
 
 Homer's Iliad is said to be the world's greatest poem. 
 The chief episodes of the tale of Helen and the dire results of 
 her misdoing are here told in words admirable for their sim- 
 plicity and directness. The wonderful inventive skill, the 
 beauty and variety of imagery, and the simplicity of style dis- 
 played by Homer are graphically exhibited in this book. 
 
 The Story of the Odyssey 
 
 <By 2*. Edward brooks, cA. M. Illustrated 
 
 The wanderings of Ulysses are here told in a charmingly 
 simple and concise style, making a book full of interest, and 
 the boy or girl who begins the story will read it through. It 
 is not merely attractive and absorbing, it is as well one of the 
 most instructive books that literature affords. In fact, he who 
 has become familiar with the adventures here narrated has an 
 outlook upon the art, poetry, and romance of the world. 
 
 The Story of the cAeneid 
 
 <By T>r. Ed<ward ^Brooks, <A. cM. Illustrated 
 
 Virgil's classic poem was probably never before rendered into 
 such choice but simple English as is found in this volume. 
 The story of the erratic journeyings of ^neas and his com- 
 panions, while somewhat abbreviated, is connected, and 
 flows smoothly along with much of the spirit that character- 
 izes the original. No boy or girl who reads this story will fail 
 to have an increased admiration for classical literature.