rithed in delight.
"There goes Cliff, hot under the collar, chasing Norcross. If he finds
out that Berrie is interested in him, he'll just about wring that dude's
neck."

Meanwhile Wayland was riding through the pass with lightening heart, his
thought dwelling on the girl at the end of his journey. Aside from Landon
and Nash, she was the one soul in all this mountain world in whom he took
the slightest interest. Her pity still hurt him, but he hoped to show her
such change of color, such gain in horsemanship, that she could no longer
consider him an invalid. His mind kept so closely to these interior
matters that he hardly saw the path, but his horse led him safely back
with precise knowledge and eager haste.

As he reached the McFarlane ranch it seemed deserted of men, but a faint
column of smoke rising from the roof of the kitchen gave evidence of a
cook, and at his knock Berrie came to the door with a boyish word of
frank surprise and pleasure. She was dressed in a blue-and-white calico
gown with the collar turned in and the sleeves rolled up; but she seemed
quite unembarrassed, and her pleasure in his coming quite repaid him for
his long and tiresome ride.

"I've been wondering about you," she said. "I'm mighty glad to see you.
How do you stand it?"

"You got my letter?"

"I did--and I was going to write and tell you to come down, but I've had
some special work to do at the office."

She took the horse's rein from him, and together they started toward
the stables. As she stepped over and around the old hoofs and
meat-bones--which littered the way--without comment, Wayland again
wondered at her apparent failure to realize the disgusting disorder of
the yard. "Why don't she urge the men to clean it up?" he thought.

This action of stabling the horses--a perfectly innocent and natural one
for her--led one of the hands, a coarse-minded sneak, to watch them from
a corral. "I wonder how Cliff would like that?" he evilly remarked.

Berea was frankly pleased to see Wayland, and spoke of the improvement
which had taken place in him. "You're looking fine," she said, as they
were returning to the house. "But how do you get on with the boys?"

"Not very well," he admitted. "They seem to have it in for me. It's a
constant fight."

"How about Frank?"

"He's the worst of them all. He never speaks to me that he doesn't insult
me. I don't know why. I've tried my best to get into his good graces, but
I can't. Your uncle