owns any of the claims, as you call them,
in this valley?" she asked. "I was going to speak to Mr. Macpherson, but
you say he has gone out of town."

"Yes'm." Ponk fairly swelled with importance. "I know every claim, and
who owns it, from the hills up yonder clear to the mouth of that stream.
My hotel an' livery business together keeps me as well posted as the
Macpherson Mortgage Company that holds a mortgage on most of them."

"Can you tell me where to find the one belonging to the estate of the
late Jeremiah Swaim, of Philadelphia?" Jerry asked, in a low voice.

The short little man beside the car looked away in pity and surprise as
he said:

"Yes'm, I can. You follow this street south and keep on till you come to
where the Sage Brush makes a sharp bend to the east, right at a
ranch-house. From there you leave the trail (we still call that
down-stream road 'the trail') and strike across to three big
cottonwood-trees on a kind of a knoll, considerable distance away. You
can't miss 'em, for you can see 'em for miles. And then"--Ponk hesitated
as if trying to remember--"seems to me you turn, bias'n' like, southeast
a bit, and head for a little bunch of low oaks. From there you run your
eye around and figger how many acres you can see. An', it's all Jeremiah
Swaim's, or his heirs an' assignees. But, say, _you_ ain't any kin to
the late Mr. Swaim, who never seen that land of hisn, I reckon? I hadn't
thought about your names being the same. Odd I didn't."

There was something wistful in the query which Jerry set down merely as
plebeian curiosity, but she answered, courteously:

"Yes, he was my father. The land belongs to me."

"Say, hadn't you better wait and let York Macpherson soar down with
you?" Ponk suggested. "It might be better, after all, mebby, not to go
alone to spy out the land, even if you can drive yourself. Seems to me
York said he'd be goin' down that way the last of the week. I do wish
you'd wait for York to go with you first."

"I want to go alone," Jerry replied, and with a deft hand she made the
difficult curve to the street, leaving the proprietor of the garage
staring after her.

"Well, by heck! she can run a car anyhow!" he exclaimed, as he watched
her speeding away. "Smart as her dad, I reckon. Mebby a little smarter."

All of Lesa Swaim's love of romantic adventure was shining on Jerry
Swaim's bright face as she came upon Laura Macpherson on the cool side
porch a few minutes later.

"I'm