p a
barrier between herself and the Preacher? or was it knowledge that the
flowers are ever fairest in the fenced-in field? This much was sure, the
interest of passing attraction was giving place to a deeper feeling. A
feeling stronger every month. Lou-Jane was in the game to win; and was
playing well.

August, bright and fruit-giving, was passing; September was near with
its dryness, its payments on the springtime promises; and Belle, as she
gazed at the radiant sky or the skurrying prairie dogs that tumbled,
yapping, down their little craters, was tormented with the flight of the
glowing months. In October the young Preacher and she must say good-bye
for a long, long time, with little chance of any break till his course
was completed, and he emerged a graduate of Coulter. That was a gloomy
thought. But others of equal dread had come of late.

Hartigan was paying repeated pastoral calls at Hoomers' and last week
Jim and Lou-Jane had ridden to Fort Ryan together. It was a sort of
challenge race--on a dare--and Jim had told Belle all about it before
and after; but just the same, they had ridden there and back and,
evidently, had a joyful time.

Jim was a child. He always thought of himself as a coarse, cruel, rough
brute; but really he was as soft-hearted as a woman; and, outside of his
fighting mood, nothing pained him more than the idea of making any one
unhappy. His fighting moods were big and often; but they had existence
only in the world of men. He believed himself very wise in the ways of
life, but he had not really begun to see, and he was quite sublimely
unconscious of all the forces he was setting in motion by his evident
pleasure in the horsemanship of Lou-Jane Hoomer and in their frequent
rides together.

Lou-Jane had a voice of some acceptability and she was easily persuaded
to join the choir. A class in Sunday-school was added to her activities,
and those who believed the religious instinct to be followed closely by
another on a lower plane, began to screw up their eyes and smile when
Lou-Jane appeared with Jim.

The glorious September of the hills was waning when a landslide was
started by a single sentence from Lou-Jane. She had ridden again with
Jim to Fort Ryan. Her horse had cleared a jump that his had shied at.
Mrs. Waller had said to her across the table, half in fun and meaning it
every word:

"See here, I won't have you trifling with Mr. Hartigan's affections;
remember, he's preempted."