s my
home, as you might say, seeing as how I'm sorter held down here. I'd
kinder like a picture of it to hang up, providing it ain't asking too
much of you."

"Of course not. I'll take it now," answered the girl.

"That's right good of you. I'll jest sit here and be talking to Mr.
Street, as you might say. Wouldn't that make a good picture--kinder
liven up the porch if we're on it?"

Roy felt a sudden impulse to protest, but he dared not yield to it.
What was it this man wanted of the picture? Why had he baited a trap
to get a picture of him without Beulah Rutherford knowing that he
particularly wanted it? While the girl took the photograph, his mind
was racing for Tighe's reason.

"I'll send you a copy as soon as I print it, Mr. Tighe," promised
Beulah.

"I'll sure set a heap of store by it, Miss Beulah. . . . If you don't
mind helping me set the table, we'll leave Mr. Street this old
newspaper for a few minutes whilst we fix up a snack. You'll excuse
us, Mr. Street? That's good."

Beulah went into the house the same gay and light-hearted comrade of
Beaudry that she had been all morning. When he was called in to
dinner, he saw at once that Tighe had laid his spell upon her. She was
again the sullen, resentful girl of yesterday. Suspicion filmed her
eyes. The eager light of faith in him that had quickened them while
she listened for his answers to her naive questions about the great
world was blotted out completely.

She sat through dinner in cold silence. Tighe kept the ball of
conversation rolling and Beaudry tried to play up to him. They talked
of stock, crops, and politics. Occasionally the host diverted the talk
to outside topics. He asked the young man politely how he liked the
park, whether he intended to stay long, how long he had lived in New
Mexico, and other casual questions.

Roy was glad when dinner was over. He drew a long breath of relief
when they had turned their backs upon the ranch. But his spirits did
not register normal even in the spring sunshine of the hills. For the
dark eyes that met his were clouded with doubt and resentment.

Chapter VIII

Beulah Asks Questions

A slim, wiry youth in high-heeled boots came out of the house with Brad
Charlton just as the buggy stopped at the porch of the horse ranch. He
nodded to Beulah.

"'Lo, sis."

"My brother Ned--Mr. Street." The girl introduced them a little
sulkily.

Ned Rutherford offered Roy a coffee-bro