prairies for me."

The pony was treading through a vast field of purple clover fading to
brown in the autumn sun. It was just before sunset. Away to the right,
Jacqueline could see a group of slow moving objects, which she knew to
be cattle. Half a mile on the opposite side was a sparse group of
evergreen trees and low bushes. But there was nothing else that broke
the vision of a long line of level country, until the snow-capped peaks
of the distant mountains shone like gold in the rays of the setting sun.

"We will try the trees, Hotspur," Jacqueline urged coaxingly. "Perhaps
we may find a trail over there. Anyhow I believe I would rather be a
solitary babe in the woods, than to wander around here in the alfalfa
fields until to-morrow morning."

The girl wore a short, brown corduroy jacket and skirt, leather leggings
and riding boots. Over the pommel of her saddle hung a bunch of silver
grouse and a smart little rifle was suspended at her side.

"I am desperately hungry," she announced aloud. "I do wish I had a match
so I could light a fire. Jolly good advice that of Jim's for a ranch
girl, 'never try to find your match, always carry it with you.'"

Jacqueline laughed. She was not willing to confess that she was tired,
although she had been riding since eight o'clock that morning. Against
the wishes of her sister Frieda, her cousin Jean, and the overseer of
their ranch, Jim Colter, she had gone off alone to inspect the corral
which had been recently built to protect their sheep for the winter.

Inside the woods the way was darker and there was no sign of a road.
Jacqueline let the reins slacken on her pony's neck. Really Hotspur
would have to find the right trail home, if they were to reach the ranch
house that night. She could hear the rabbits and squirrels scurrying
back into their retreats. They were not accustomed to being disturbed at
their supper time and at first there was no other sound.

"Who goes there?" suddenly a rough voice demanded, and a horse came
plunging through an opening in the trees.

Jacqueline's color paled. She recognized the rider, a boy of about
sixteen, nearly her own age. "I am Jacqueline Ralston," she answered
quietly. "I have lost the trail. Will you please show me the way to the
Rainbow Ranch?"

The young fellow laughed rudely. "Miss Ralston, is it?" he sneered.
"Don't tell me you are lost on our ranch. You have been over here spying
at our cattle. Just you trot along home as f