erward, lighting a fresh cigar and walking
toward the bunkhouse, which was deserted, for Chavis and Pickett had gone
to a distant part of the range.

Thus Masten did not see Vickers, when a little later he came out on the
porch with his war-bag. He said good-bye to Aunt Martha and Uncle Jepson,
and then he took Ruth's hand and held it long.

"You'll never go a heap wrong when you use your own judgment, girl," he
said. "I'm ridin' over to the Diamond H to tell Randerson about his new
job. Don't make no mistake, girl. Rex Randerson is square. An' if any
trouble comes sneakin' around you, take it to Rex; he'll stick on the
right side till hell freezes over."

[Illustration: "I am Ruth Harkness, the new owner of the Flying W"]

CHAPTER VI

A MAN AND HIS JOB

Just what Ruth's sensations were the next morning she could not have
told. She could correctly analyze one emotion: it was eager anticipation.
Also, she could account for it--she wanted to see Randerson. But her
reason for wanting to see him was a mystery that she could not fathom,
though between the time of arising and the moment when she got downstairs
she devoted much thought to it. She knew she did not like Randerson well
enough to wish to see him merely on that account--that was ridiculous, in
spite of the vivid recollection of him that still lingered with her, for
she had met him only once, and she assured herself that she was too
practical-minded to fall in love with anyone at first sight. Yet by
afternoon Ruth had tired of waiting; she had no special reason for
certainty that Randerson would arrive that day, and so she went riding.
She went alone, for Masten seemed to have hidden himself--at least, she
could not find him. She rode to the break in the wall of the canyon that
he had told her about, found it, sent her pony through it and over a
shallow crossing, emerging at length in a tangle of undergrowth in a wood
through which wound a narrow bridle path. She followed this for some
distance, and after a while came to a clearing. A little adobe house
stood near the center of the clearing. Ruth halted her pony, and was
debating whether to call out or to ride boldly up, when a dog came out of
the door of the cabin, growling, its hair bristling belligerently. The
dog was big, black, and undoubtedly savage, for the pony instantly
wheeled, and when the dog came closer, lashed out with both hind ho