uld give me a clue. Do you
know of a place so called around here? Or would Mr. Watterby?"

"I don't know where the Saunders place is," replied Grandma Watterby,
genuinely troubled. "Will wouldn't know, 'cause he's only farmed here
five years, having his own place till his pa died. If I recollect
right, the Saunders didn't live round here, not right round here,
that is. Let's see, it's all of fifteen years since Faith was
married. I lost sight of the girls after she left, and they stopped
driving in to see us. Where was their place? I know I went to old
Mrs. Saunders' funeral. Well, anyway, I got this much straight--there
was three hills right back of the house. I'd know 'em if I saw 'em in
Japan--them three hills! You watch for 'em, boy, and when you lay
eyes on 'em you'll know you've found the Saunders place!"

And that was the most definite direction Bob could hope for. Grandma
Watterby had the weight of years upon her, and she could not remember
the road that led to the farm she had often visited. Though in the
days that followed she recollected various bits of information about
Bob's mother and her life as a girl, to which he listened eagerly,
she was utterly unable to locate the farm. She kept mentioning the
three hills, however, and her son, overhearing, smiled a little.

"Mother never did pay much attention to roads and like-a-that," he
commented dryly. "She always found her way around like the Babes in
the Wood--by remembering something she had passed coming over."

The Watterby place was a curious mixture of primitive farming
methods, ranching tactics, and Indian folklore, with a sprinkling of
furtherest East and West for good measure. Will Watterby attributed
his cosmopolitan plan of work to the influence of the ever-changing
hired man.

"They come and they go, mostly go," he was fond of saying. "It's
easier for me to do the hired man's way, 'cause I can't go off when
things don't suit me. Our place seems to be a half-way station for
all the tramps in creation. I reckon they get off at Flame City, and,
headed east or west, have to earn the money for the rest of their
trip. Well, anyway, I don't believe in being narrow; if a man can
show me a better way to do a job, I'm willing to be shown."

"I simply have to have a clean middy blouse to wear to-morrow when
Uncle Dick gets back," Betty confided to Bob. "And I don't intend to
let Mrs. Watterby wash and iron it for me. Can't you fix me a tub of
water some