it was really meant to honor her, and she grew
conscious of her rags, of the visible signs of poverty, of the visitor's
raiment, gorgeous in comparison with her own--though Ruth's was merely a
simple riding habit of brown corduroy.

Ruth had set out for this visit with a definite intention: she wanted to
discover just how the girl and her father lived, and if conditions were
as she suspected she was determined to help them. Conditions were worse
than she had expected, but her face gave no indication. Perhaps Ruth's
wisdom was not remarkable where men were concerned, but she had a wealth
of delicacy, understanding and sympathy where her own sex was in
question. She stayed at the cabin for more than an hour and at the end of
that time she emerged, smiling happily, her arm around the girl, with the
girl's pledge to visit her soon and an earnest invitation to come again.
Best of all, she had cleverly played upon the feminine instinct for fine
raiment, slyly mentioned a trunk that she had brought with her from the
East, packed to the top with substantial finery which was not in the
least needed by her--an incumbrance, rather--and which, she hinted, might
become the property of another, if suitable in size.

The girl followed her to the edge of the clearing, walking beside the
pony. There they took leave of each other, a glow in the eyes of both
that gave promise of future sincere friendship.

"Good-bye, Hagar," said the Flying W girl.

"Good-bye, lady," said the girl. "Ruth," she changed, as the Flying W
girl held up an admonishing finger. And then, with a last smile, Ruth
rode down the bridle path homeward, pleasure and pity mingling in her
eyes.

Randerson reached the Flying W ranchhouse late in the afternoon. He rode
first to the bunkhouse, and seeing nobody there he made a round of the
buildings. Still seeing no one, he urged Patches toward the house, halted
him at the edge of the front porch and sat in the saddle, looking at the
front door. He was about to call, when the door opened and Uncle Jepson
came out. There was a broad grin on Uncle Jepson's face.

"I cal'late you've got here," he said.

"Looks mighty like it," returned the horseman. "You reckon my new boss is
anywheres around?"

"She's gone off ridin'," Uncle Jepson told him. "It's likely she'll be
back shortly."

"I reckon I'd better wait," said Randerson. He wheeled Patches.

"There's plenty of sittin' room on the porch here," invited Uncle Jepson,