tackled yet."

He blew out the candle and in a few moments the little camp was silent
in the star glow.

CHAPTER VI

THE LETTER FROM WASHINGTON

In spite of his weariness, Roger could not sleep. He scarcely had closed
his eyes when the memory of Dick's curious ugliness made him open them
and stare into the darkness. What in the world could induce a seemingly
pleasant fellow like Dick to go off apparently without cause into a deep
seated grouch?

Roger shook himself. What a fool he was to lie awake over a thing as
trivial as this. All men were moody. Roger told himself that, excepting
Ernest, every man he knew had unaccountable grouches. Then he closed his
eyes and opened them again. Would Dick row Charley? It was unthinkable
that a man should row a woman of her type. Roger had discovered that he
admired his old time playmate very much. She was so calm, so clear
headed and keen thinking. With all the dignity of her splendid boyish
physique added to her splendid intelligence, it was very unpleasant to
think of her having to submit to bullying.

Roger turned over with a sigh. After a time of tossing, moved by an
unaccountable impulse, he crept out of bed and peered from the tent flap
toward the ranch house. A faint speck of light flecked the darkness. He
scratched a match and looked at his watch. It was half past two. He went
back to bed, where he lay for a half hour, wondering what was going on
at the ranch house.

This was an unusual proceeding for Roger. Like most only children Roger
had grown up self-centered and more or less selfish. His work had tended
to increase these characteristics. Not since his mother's death, with
the single exception of his thoughtful affection for Mamma Wolf, had
Roger spent so much of himself on another's problem as he now was
spending on Charley's.

He rose again. The light still shone from the adobe. He slipped into his
clothes and noiselessly left the tent. It was nipping cold and he walked
as fast as the heavy sand permitted. As he neared the ranch, a second
light appeared and moved down to the corral. A few minutes later Roger
had reached the bars.

"Dick," he cried softly to the dark figure that was pulling the harness
off one of the horses. "It's Roger! Anything the matter? I saw the
light." The figure dropped the harness and ran over to the bar. As the
"bug" light caught her face, Roger saw that it was Charley.

"Oh, Roger!" she exclaimed. "I'm so glad, so glad