companions--though three-fourths of their antics then are caused by
reckless high spirits rather than by real ugliness--with exceptions, of
course. But when sober they are quiet, straightforward, generous-hearted
good fellows, hard-working and honest; certainly my boys are."

Mr. Hartley hesitated, then went on, still gravely.

"There's just as much difference in ranches, of course, Miss Cordelia,
as there is in folks; and all the ranches are changing fast, anyway,
nowadays. Lots of the owners are quitting living on them at all. They've
gone into the towns to live. On the Six Star the boys take their meals
with the family; and in many places they don't do that, I know, even
where the owner lives on the ranch. Our boys are very loyal to us, and
very much interested in all that concerns us. They fairly worship
Genevieve, and have, all the way up."

"I'm so glad," murmured Cordelia, again; and this time there was a look
very much like admiration in the eyes that rested on Long John just
ahead.

It was some time later that Mr. Hartley said, half turning around:

"Look straight ahead, a little to the right, young ladies, and you'll
get a very good view of the Six Star Ranch."

"Oh, and you've got a windmill," cried Tilly. "I can see it against the
sky; I know I can!"

"Yes, we've got a windmill," nodded Mr. Hartley.

"I love windmills," exulted Cordelia.

"So does Genevieve," observed Mr. Hartley, raising his eyebrows a
little.

Only Cordelia noticed the odd smile he gave as he spoke, and she did not
know what it meant. Later, however, she remembered it. She was too much
excited now to think of anything but the fact that the Six Star Ranch
was so near.

Bertha craned her neck to look ahead.

"Only think, we haven't passed a house, not a house since we left Bolo,"
she cried.

Mr. Hartley smiled.

"You see, Miss Bertha, Bolo, eighteen miles away, is our nearest
neighbor; and you'll have to go even farther than that in any other
direction to strike another neighbor."

"My stars!" gasped Bertha. "How awful lonesome it must be, Mr. Hartley."

"Anyhow, you can't be much bothered with neighbors running in to borrow
two eggs and a little soda, can you?" giggled Tilly.

"No; that isn't one of the difficulties we have to deal with," smiled
Mr. Hartley; but Bertha bridled visibly.

"Well, really, Tilly Mack," she exclaimed in pretended anger, "I should
like to know if you mean anything special! You see," she ad