in appearance, I'll
admit, but, from what I can gather, he seems to be a pretty good sort. Any
man's worth a try-out, you know. He's looking for work, and now that
threshing is coming on I'm looking for an extra man, so he's going to stay
here a spell. These fellows who take to the road, you see, fill a great
need out here in this country. We depend on one or more of them showing up
about this time of year."

Vivian was still staring, unable to speak. Mary, desirous that Mr. Crusoe
should not misunderstand their flight, explained the affair to Mr. Hunter,
a little more rationally than Vivian had done.

"You see," she finished, "it's just that we aren't used to seeing persons
like that, and he _did_ look fierce, Mr. Hunter. I wish you'd explain to
him how it was. I shouldn't want to be rude even to a hobo."

Mr. Hunter smiled.

"He'll understand, Mary," he said. "In fact, he does already, for when he
saw you riding home he told me about how frightened you were at the ford.
Don't be at all alarmed, Vivian," he called, for Vivian was hurrying into
the house, her head high. "He's a gentleman--underneath the whiskers and
the shirt."

So Mr. Crusoe stayed on at the Hunter ranch. The men liked him--that was
plain to be seen. Every evening their laughter echoed from the bunk-house
where Mr. Crusoe was entertaining them with his songs and stories. Even
the silent William was loud in his praise, and Mr. Weeks, the foreman, in
speaking of his ability and readiness to work, suggested a permanent
position. Mary allowed but a day to go by before apologizing for her
flight from the ford, and after Mr. Crusoe's courteous acceptance became
his firm adherent, much to Vivian's disgust. Even Aunt Nan found him
interesting, while Virginia and Priscilla listened eagerly to his tales of
Cripple Creek. They were collecting theme material, they told the
disdainful Vivian.

Apparently Mr. Crusoe had stormed and taken the Hunter ranch. Only one
member of the family remained his enemy. Vivian was still unconvinced. To
her every one else on the ranch had taken his place among the number of
those condemned by the apostle, "who, having eyes, see not." In her
suspicious eyes Mr. Crusoe was a "ravening wolf" of whom she should
beware. When she had an infrequent occasion to address him she used an
offended dignity, tinged with scorn; when his name was brought into the
conversation she remained silent, secure in the knowledge that some day
they w