ateful to Jean and Frieda for their kindness to her, but as long
as she lived she would remember that it was Jacqueline who had put her
arms about her and brought her to the ranch house on the day she had
decided that she could bear life with old Laska no longer. Olilie was
too shy to show what she felt, but Jack was to find it out some day in a
wonderful way.

"I shall be very glad to have you call me, Olive," she answered, in the
musical tones that surprised everybody acquainted with the guttural
sounds the Indians make in trying to speak English.

Jim turned to stare back of him. He was very much displeased with this
latest escapade of the ranch girls, and had no idea of giving his
consent to their keeping this girl. Already he had ridden over to tell
Laska and Josef that they could have her back in a few days. Frieda and
Jean were treating this Indian wench like a sister, and a stop had to be
put to their nonsense. Jim swallowed hard as he caught sight of Olilie
whom he had seen but a few times before to-day: "Kind of wish the girls
had never run across this one," he muttered to himself. "They have got
plenty to do to take care of themselves."

Olilie looked to-day as you would imagine a gypsy maiden appeared long
years ago in her own land of Romany. She had on a faded blue gown of
Jean's and a cape of Jack's; her hair was parted in the middle, like
Jack's and Frieda's and plaited in two braids, coming way down over her
low broad forehead. Her eyes were long and narrow, of a clear burning
black, her skin a dark olive and her color spread all over her cheeks
instead of centering in single, bright patches.

"Jack," Jim whispered, "don't you say too much at the Simpson's about
keeping this Indian girl at Rainbow Ranch and don't you be telling
anything at this house party about what is worrying us. What we want to
do is to keep mum and fight our own battles; if we get the Indians
against us, the cattle and horses will disappear faster than they are
going now."

There were at least a dozen young people, the sons and daughters of the
most prosperous ranchmen in that part of Wyoming, scattered all about
the front of the Simpson ranch house when the girls drove up in their
old wagon. An automobile stood in front of the door, for Mr. Simpson was
an up-to-date cattleman and rode around his vast place in a sixty
horse-power machine, instead of on the back of a shaggy broncho.

"Hurrah for the Ranch Girls of Rainbow Lodge