or the well-worn courses of the hunt club. But here in the
hills where the very air was a tonic that sent the blood coursing
through her veins, and where tier after tier, the mighty mountains
rolled away into the distance, as if flaunting a challenge to come and
explore their secrets, and unscarred valleys gave glimpses of alluring
vistas, the exhilaration amounted almost to intoxication. As her
horse's feet thudded the ground, and splashed in and out of the
shallows of the creek, she laughed aloud for the very joy of living.
She pulled her horse to a walk as she skirted the fence of Watts's
upper pasture, and her eyes rested with approval upon the straightened
posts and taut wire. "At last Mr. Watts has bestirred himself. I hope
he will keep on, now, that he's got the habit, and fix up the rest of
the ranch. I wonder why that Vil Holland disapproved when he mentioned
that he had leased his pasture. It seems as though nothing can happen
in this country unless Vil Holland is mixed up in it someway. And, now
I'm down this far, I'll just find out whether Vil Holland did take
that pack down here for daddy. And if he did I'll let him know mighty
quick, the next time I see him, that I know all about it's being cut
open."

With her tubs on a bench, and the baby propped and tied securely in an
old wooden rocker, Ma Watts was up to her elbows in her "week's
worsh." Watts sat in his accustomed place, his chair tilted against
the shady side of the house. "Laws sakes, ef hit hain't Mr. Sinclair's
darter!" cried the woman, shaking the suds from her bare arms, "How be
yo', honey? An' how's the sheep camp? Microby Dandeline tellen us how
yo'-all scrubbed, an' scraped, an' cleaned 'til hit shined like a
nigger's heel. Hit's nice to be clean, that-a-way ef yo' got time, but
with five er six young-uns to take keer of, an' a passel of chickens
a-runnin' in under foot all day, seems like a body cain't keep clean
nohow. Microby says how yo' got a rale curtin' in yo' winder, an' all
kinds of pert doin' an' fixin's. That's hit, git right down off yer
horse. Land! I wus so busy hearin' 'bout yo' fixin' up the sheep camp,
thet I plumb fergot my manners. Watts, get a cheer! An' 'pears like
yo' could say 'Howdy' when anyone comes a visitin'."

"I aimed to," mumbled Watts apologetically, as he dragged a chair from
the kitchen, "I wus jest a-aidgin' 'round fer a chanct."

"I can't stay but a minute, see, the shadows are already half way
across