k
broodings, from them to' wistfulness, and at last to a pride that
sustained her.

Late in the afternoon, at Helen's leisure hour, when she and Bo were in
the sitting-room, horses tramped into the court and footsteps mounted
the porch. Opening to a loud knock, Helen was surprised to see Beasley.
And out in the court were several mounted horsemen. Helen's heart sank.
This visit, indeed, had been foreshadowed.

"Afternoon, Miss Rayner," said Beasley, doffing his sombrero. "I've
called on a little business deal. Will you see me?"

Helen acknowledged his greeting while she thought rapidly. She might
just as well see him and have that inevitable interview done with.

"Come in," she said, and when he had entered she closed the door. "My
sister, Mr. Beasley."

"How d' you do, Miss?" said the rancher, in bluff, loud voice.

Bo acknowledged the introduction with a frigid little bow.

At close range Beasley seemed a forceful personality as well as a rather
handsome man of perhaps thirty-five, heavy of build, swarthy of skin,
and sloe-black of eye, like that of the Mexicans whose blood was
reported to be in him. He looked crafty, confident, and self-centered.
If Helen had never heard of him before that visit she would have
distrusted him.

"I'd called sooner, but I was waitin' for old Jose, the Mexican who
herded for me when I was pardner to your uncle," said Beasley, and he
sat down to put his huge gloved hands on his knees.

"Yes?" queried Helen, interrogatively.

"Jose rustled over from Magdalena, an' now I can back up my claim....
Miss Rayner, this hyar ranch ought to be mine an' is mine. It wasn't so
big or so well stocked when Al Auchincloss beat me out of it. I reckon
I'll allow for thet. I've papers, an' old Jose for witness. An' I
calculate you'll pay me eighty thousand dollars, or else I'll take over
the ranch."

Beasley spoke in an ordinary, matter-of-fact tone that certainly seemed
sincere, and his manner was blunt, but perfectly natural.

"Mr. Beasley, your claim is no news to me," responded Helen, quietly.
"I've heard about it. And I questioned my uncle. He swore on his
death-bed that he did not owe you a dollar. Indeed, he claimed the
indebtedness was yours to him. I could find nothing in his papers, so I
must repudiate your claim. I will not take it seriously."

"Miss Rayner, I can't blame you for takin' Al's word against mine," said
Beasley. "An' your stand is natural. But you're a stranger here a