earth but
John Ralston's daughters."

"But how, Jim?" Jack asked. "You know we have lost the title to the
estate. We have never been able to find a sign of a paper to show that
the ranch is our property. I have looked through every one of father's
papers a thousand times. The deed is gone!"

"Then it will have to return before January first," Jim answered coolly,
snapping his fingers in the wind. "That is the date Mr. Norton means to
bring suit. Remember the game we used to play with a bit of paper, when
you were a little girl, Jack, 'Fly away Peter, Come back Paul'? Paul
used to come back, so don't you be frightened. Daniel Norton hasn't
gotten our ranch from us yet, and before he does, he will see some
pretty tall scrapping. But I am afraid we have got to find our deed. I
was one of the witnesses when your father's title to this ranch was
drawn up. The other witness was a fellow from the East, who just
happened to be passing through the country. He stayed with us a few days
and then goodness only knows what became of him. He may be living in
New York or New Mexico for all I know."

"But you can advertise for him, can't you, Jim?" Jack pleaded, her face
looking white and drawn. "Maybe if he would swear that father bought our
ranch and that Mr. Norton couldn't have any right to it, it might do
some good. What was his name?"

"Will Corbin," Jim answered shortly. "But don't build your hopes on that
idea. I have been advertising for the fellow for months. Not a word from
him."

"But the court records," Jack continued. "Of course I don't know
anything about law or business, Jim, but I am sure that I have heard
that if a person buys or sells a piece of property, some kind of record
of it is kept in a big book. Can't you get hold of that?" Jack begged
faintly. "If Mr. Norton brings suit and makes us leave our ranch in
January, what can we do? Where will we go? It will be so hard for Frieda
and Jean." Jack choked and could not go on for a moment.

Jim was looking in every direction except at his companion and cleared
his throat once or twice. Jack was gazing out over the sweep of low
country bordered by the distant hills. To one side was an open field,
where a herd of wild horses was munching the dried buffalo grass; on the
wooded slope of the ravine on the further bank of the creek, cattle were
leading their calves to drink. It was all their own, hers and Jean's and
Frieda's; their beloved Rainbow Ranch! Jack could re