s never seen none to compare with her. She'll make
bad blood an' some of it will be spilled."

"Uncle Al encourages her," said Helen, apprehensively. "It tickles him
to hear how the boys are after her. Oh, she doesn't tell him. But he
hears. And I, who must stand in mother's place to her, what can I do?"

"Miss Nell, are you on my side?" asked the cowboy, wistfully. He was
strong and elemental, caught in the toils of some power beyond him.

Yesterday Helen might have hesitated at that question. But to-day
Carmichael brought some proven quality of loyalty, some strange depth of
rugged sincerity, as if she had learned his future worth.

"Yes, I am," Helen replied, earnestly. And she offered her hand.

"Wal, then it 'll shore turn out happy," he said, squeezing her hand.
His smile was grateful, but there was nothing in it of the victory he
hinted at. Some of his ruddy color had gone. "An' now I want to tell you
why I come."

He had lowered his voice. "Is Al asleep?" he whispered.

"Yes," replied Helen. "He was a little while ago."

"Reckon I'd better shut his door."

Helen watched the cowboy glide across the room and carefully close the
door, then return to her with intent eyes. She sensed events in his
look, and she divined suddenly that he must feel as if he were her
brother.

"Shore I'm the one thet fetches all the bad news to you," he said,
regretfully.

Helen caught her breath. There had indeed been many little calamities
to mar her management of the ranch--loss of cattle, horses, sheep--the
desertion of herders to Beasley--failure of freighters to arrive
when most needed--fights among the cowboys--and disagreements over
long-arranged deals.

"Your uncle Al makes a heap of this here Jeff Mulvey," asserted
Carmichael.

"Yes, indeed. Uncle absolutely relies on Jeff," replied Helen.

"Wal, I hate to tell you, Miss Nell," said the cowboy, bitterly, "thet
Mulvey ain't the man he seems."

"Oh, what do you mean?"

"When your uncle dies Mulvey is goin' over to Beasley an' he's goin' to
take all the fellars who'll stick to him."

"Could Jeff be so faithless--after so many years my uncle's foreman? Oh,
how do you know?"

"Reckon I guessed long ago. But wasn't shore. Miss Nell, there's a
lot in the wind lately, as poor old Al grows weaker. Mulvey has been
particular friendly to me an' I've nursed him along, 'cept I wouldn't
drink. An' his pards have been particular friends with me, too, more
an' more as I