, the nights were
melodious with the sound of their voices. Themselves invisible, far
below on the surface of earth the swish of their migratory wings sounded
so distinctly that to a listening human ear it almost seemed it were a
troop of angels passing overhead.

After them came the myriad small birds of the prairie,--the countless
flocks of blackbirds, whose "fl-ee-ce," in continuous chorus filled all
the daylight hours; the meadow-larks, singly or in pairs, announcing
their arrival with a guttural "tuerk" and a saucy flit of the tail, or
admonishing "fill your tea-kettle, fill your tea-kettle" with a
persistence worthy a better cause.

Ere this the earth was bare and brown. The chatter of the snow streams
had ceased. In the high places, on southern slopes, there was even a
suggestion of green. At last, on the sunny side of a knoll, there peeped
forth the blue face of an anemone. The following day it had several
companions. Within a week a very army of blue had arrived, stood erect
at attention so far as the eye could reach and beyond. No longer was
there a doubt of the season. Not precursors of Spring, but Spring
itself had come.

Meanwhile, on the Box R ranch everything moved on as of yore. Save on
that first night, Ben Blair made no man his confidant, accepted without
question his place as Rankin's successor. Most silent of these silent
people, he did his work and did it well, burying deep beneath an
impenetrable mask his thoughts and feelings. Not until an early Summer
was almost come did he make a move. Then at last a note of three
sentences went eastward:

"Miss Baker: I'll be in New York in a few days, and if
convenient to you will call. The prairies send greetings in
advance. I saw the first wild rose of the season to-day.

"Ben Blair."

A week later, after giving directions for the day's work to Grannis one
morning, Ben added some suggestions for the days to follow. As to time,
they were rather indefinite, and the overseer looked a question.

"I'm going away for a bit," explained Ben, simply, in answer. Then he
turned to Graham. "Hitch up the buckboard right away, please. I want you
to take me to town in time to catch the afternoon train East."

CHAPTER XVII

GLITTER AND TINSEL

Clarence Sidwell--Chad, his friends called him--leaned farther back in
the big wicker chair, with an involuntary motion adjusted his
well-creased