very decided young lady, isn't that rather odd?"

"There are some things one can't decide all by one's self."

"Such as?"

"The next step."

"Perhaps you will find it easier after a week or two of ranching."

"You don't think I am going to like ranching?"

"Hardly."

"Don't you like it?"

"Oh, I'm an old man, with my life behind me."

The lamp-light on his face was stronger than he was aware; Elizabeth saw
a good deal in it which he was not in the habit of displaying to his
fellow-creatures. She stooped, and patted one of the collies, and told
him she thought she really ought to go to bed; upon which Stanwood rose
with alacrity, and conducted her to the museum, which had been turned
into a very habitable sleeping-room.

Having closed the door upon his latest "curiosity," Stanwood proceeded
to perform a solemn rite in the light of the stars. He took his demijohn
of old rye, and, followed by the six collies, he carried it out a few
rods back of the cabin, where he gravely emptied its contents upon the
sandy soil. At the first remonstrating gulp of the demijohn, which
seemed to be doing its best to arrest the flow, a strong penetrating
aroma assailed his nostrils, but he never flinched. Great as his
confidence was in his own supremacy in his peculiarly intimate relations
with old rye, he did not wish to "take any chances" with himself.

The dogs stood around in an admiring circle, and sniffed perplexedly at
the strange libation which was clearly not intended for their kind. Did
they realize that it was poured before the altar of parental devotion?
They stood there wagging their tails with great vigor, and never taking
their eyes off their master's countenance. Perhaps they appreciated the
odd, half-deprecating, half-satirical expression of the face they knew
so well. It would have been a pity if somebody had not done so. It is to
be feared, however, that the remark with which Stanwood finally turned
away from the odorous pool and walked toward the house was beyond the
comprehension of the canine intellect. To himself, at least, the
remorseful pang was very real with which he said, half aloud, "Pity to
waste good liquor like that! Some poor wretch might have enjoyed it."

The morning following his visitor's arrival, the two drove together in
the rattling old ranch wagon to Cameron City. Elizabeth was enchanted
with the ingenious introduction of odd bits of rope into the harness, by
means of which the whole es