d. "Now, will you be makin' camp here?"

"Wal, no. I'll rest a little, an' you can pack the girls' outfit--then
we'll go. Sure you're goin' with us?"

"I'll call the girls to breakfast," replied Dale, and he moved away
without answering Auchincloss's query.

Helen divined that Dale did not mean to go down to Pine with them, and
the knowledge gave her a blank feeling of surprise. Had she expected him
to go?

"Come here, Jeff," called Al, to one of his men.

A short, bow-legged horseman with dusty garb and sun-bleached face
hobbled forth from the group. He was not young, but he had a boyish grin
and bright little eyes. Awkwardly he doffed his slouch sombrero.

"Jeff, shake hands with my nieces," said Al. "This 's Helen, an' your
boss from now on. An' this 's Bo, fer short. Her name was Nancy, but
when she lay a baby in her cradle I called her Bo-Peep, an' the name's
stuck.... Girls, this here's my foreman, Jeff Mulvey, who's been with me
twenty years."

The introduction caused embarrassment to all three principals,
particularly to Jeff.

"Jeff, throw the packs an' saddles fer a rest," was Al's order to his
foreman.

"Nell, reckon you'll have fun bossin' thet outfit," chuckled Al. "None
of 'em's got a wife. Lot of scalawags they are; no women would have
them!"

"Uncle, I hope I'll never have to be their boss," replied Helen.

"Wal, you're goin' to be, right off," declared Al. "They ain't a bad
lot, after all. An' I got a likely new man."

With that he turned to Bo, and, after studying her pretty face,
he asked, in apparently severe tone, "Did you send a cowboy named
Carmichael to ask me for a job?"

Bo looked quite startled.

"Carmichael! Why, Uncle, I never heard that name before," replied Bo,
bewilderedly.

"A-huh! Reckoned the young rascal was lyin'," said Auchincloss. "But I
liked the fellar's looks an' so let him stay."

Then the rancher turned to the group of lounging riders.

"Las Vegas, come here," he ordered, in a loud voice.

Helen thrilled at sight of a tall, superbly built cowboy reluctantly
detaching himself from the group. He had a red-bronze face, young like a
boy's. Helen recognized it, and the flowing red scarf, and the swinging
gun, and the slow, spur-clinking gait. No other than Bo's Las Vegas
cowboy admirer!

Then Helen flashed a look at Bo, which look gave her a delicious,
almost irresistible desire to laugh. That young lady also recognized the
reluctant individual approaching