The Range Boss

anticipation. Also, she could account for it-she wanted to see Randerson. But her reason for wanting to see him was a mystery tha

would arrive that day, and so she went riding. She went alone, for Masten seemed to have hidden himself-at least, she could not find him. She rode to the break in the wall of the canyon that he had told her about, found it, sent her pony through it and over a shallow crossing, emerging at length in a tangle of undergrowth in a wood through which wound a narrow bridle path. She followed this for some distance, an

see that that there's a lady!" came a voice, unmistakably fe

zes too small for her, stood in the open doorway, watching. She was bare-footed, her hair was in tumbling disorder, though Ruth could tell that it had been combed recently. But the legs, bare almost t

in'," she volunteered as

, holding out a hand. "I am Ruth Harkness," she added, "the new owner of the Flying W. I have

you," she said; "you're a niece of that ol' devil, Bill Harkness." She frowned. "He was always sayin' dad was hookin' his doggoned catt

stealing my cattle. We are going to be neighbors, and visit each other. I want to know your dad, and I want you to come over to the Flying W a

ed table, and stood over beside a cast-iron stove, her hands hanging at her sides, the fingers crumpling the cloth of the ragged apron. Her belligerence had departed; she seemed now to be beginning to realize that this visit

concerned, but she had a wealth of delicacy, understanding and sympathy where her own sex was in question. She stayed at the cabin for more than an hour and at the end of that time she emerged, smiling happily, her arm around the girl, with the girl's pledge to visit her soon and an earnest invitation to come again. Best of a

ide the pony. There they took leave of each other, a glow in t

ar," said the

irl held up an admonishing finger. And then, with a last smile, Ruth ro

the buildings. Still seeing no one, he urged Patches toward the house, halted him at the edge of the front porch and sat in the saddle, lo

you've got h

ed the horseman. "You reckon m

le Jepson told him. "It's li

wait," said Randerson

on the porch here," invited Uncl

the bunkhouse wi

Jepson spoke at the same i

you'd better

ncle Jepson. The handclasp between them was warm, for Uncle Jepson had been strongly attracted to this

nderson as he dropped into a c

s to have his job," w

He stood up, for Aunt Martha had opened the door and was standing in it, looking at him. He removed his hat and bowed to her, his eyes gleaming with something near affection, for Aunt Martha had fo

it here?" he said g

differences-after Poughkeepsie. One

ks live pretty close together-that there's conveniences. There ain't a heap of conveniences here." He

nt Martha. "But it's a wonder

g shot through him

like it," he

leather chaps, the cartridge belt, the broad hat, the spurs, the high-heeled boots, the colored scarf at his throat. These things were the badges of his calling, and were, of course, indispensable, but she saw them not. But the virile manhood of him; the indomitability; the quiet

born here?

lfax,

hat a

ma'am, no. I

e born on a

, ma

nswering them as a boy might have answered. It did not seem an impertinence to hi

our pa

oning. And when, a little later, they saw Ruth coming across the plains toward them, Aunt Martha got

ould have wished he woul

Aunt Martha had gone in, and he turned to face R

e had surprised her, though she had see

. "You see, Wes Vickers stopped at the Dia

ains who had been at liberty to exchange words with her as suited his whim; here was the man who had been give

miss Vickers already, and I have no doubt, according to his reco

up my quarters in the bunkhouse?" He p

n contrast to his wild frolicksomeness at Calamity that day. "Why, I don't know a

, and would have been glad to retreat. He got his war-bag from its place behind the saddle, on Pa

forgot to tell you; it is th

, ma'am."

d around," she called to him, "I wan

ay, ma'am," he said, "I'd su

And when it was over, Randerson took the saddle and bridle off Patches, turned him

lighted, delicious odors floated out to them through the screen

ys, I reckon,"

said. He peered into Randerson's face fo

rgot him," sa

er. He spoke a few words to Uncl

ound to the rear porch, where he introduced him to a tin washbasin and a roller towe

boss, it must have been dispelled by Randerson's manner, for he was perfectly polite to

conscious, but entirely natural, possessing the easy grace of movement that comes of perfect muscular and mental control. He seemed to relegate self to the background; he was considerate, quiet, serene. And last-the knowledge pleas