I like, and Mrs. Meeker is very kind; but all the
others seem to be sworn enemies. I don't think I could stand it if it
weren't for Landon. I spend a good deal of time with him."

Her face grew grave. "I reckon you got started wrong," she said at last.
"They'll like you better when you get browned up, and your clothes get
dirty--you're a little too fancy for them just now."

"But you see," he said, "I'm not trying for their admiration. I haven't
the slightest ambition to shine as a cow-puncher, and if those fellows
are fair samples I don't want anybody to mistake me for one."

"Don't let that get around," she smilingly replied. "They'd run you out
if they knew you despised them."

"I've come down here to confer with you," he declared, as they reached
the door. "I don't believe I want any more of their company. What's the
use? As you say, I've started wrong with them, and I don't see any
prospect of getting right; and, besides, I like the rangers better.
Landon thinks I might work into the service. I wonder if I could? It
would give me something to do."

She considered a moment. "We'll think about that. Come into the kitchen.
I'm cook to-day, mother's gone to town."

The kitchen was clean and ample, and the delicious odor of new-made bread
filled it with cheer. As the girl resumed her apron, Wayland settled into
a chair with a sigh of content. "I like this," he said aloud. "There's
nothing cowgirl about you now, you're the Anglo-Saxon housewife. You
might be a Michigan or Connecticut girl at this moment."

Her cheeks were ruddy with the heat, and her eyes intent on her work; but
she caught enough of his meaning to be pleased with it. "Oh, I have to
take a hand at the pots and pans now and then. I can't give all my time
to the service; but I'd like to."

He boldly announced his errand. "I wish you'd take me to board? I'm sure
your cooking would build up my shattered system a good deal quicker than
your aunt's."

She laughed, but shook her head. "You ought to be on the hills riding
hard every day. What you need is the high country and the air of the
pines."

"I'm not feeling any lack of scenery or pine-tree air," he retorted. "I'm
perfectly satisfied right here. Civilized bread and the sight of you will
do me more good than boiled beans and camp bread. I hate to say it, but
the Meeker menu runs largely to beef. Moreover, just seeing you would
help my recovery."

She became self-conscious at this, and he haste