ds to one side. Poor Elizabeth had thought to give
Jack a pleasure, but instead the sight of the home she longed for so
intensely was more than the girl could bear after the strain of the
afternoon. Suddenly she gave way and sobbed as she had not done since
her accident. "I want to go home, I want to go home," Jack repeated,
like a sick child.

Ruth dropped on the porch, hiding her face in the shawl that covered
Jack. Olive and even Mr. Drummond were too choked to think of anything
comforting to say. And as for Jim Colter, he got up and stalked off the
verandah, marching up and down in the little yard like a caged animal
whose anger and bitterness cannot be quietly endured.

Five minutes later it was surprising to see him reappear with a radiant
expression, every wrinkle miraculously smoothed out of his face and his
blue eyes smiling. He sat down in his chair and tenderly patted Jack's
hand, then struck his knee with such a resounding clap that everybody
jumped and Jack laughed.

"What is it, Jim?" she inquired. "I am sorry I have been such a goose."

"Why, I have just been thinking what a parcel of idiots we are," he said
happily. "You girls ain't ever thought much of it, but I want you to
know that Rainbow Lodge ain't the only house on our place. What's the
matter with the rancho? We ain't rented _it_ to the Harmons, and the
cowboys would be only too glad to turn out with me into some tents and
hand our house over to you girls. What do you say to our taking the
train for the Rainbow Ranch about the day after to-morrow? That will
give me time to telegraph the boys to vacate. Think you could manage to
make the trip in a sleeper, old girl, with me to see after you?" he
demanded of Jack.

And the radiance of Jack's face, into which a slow rose color was
creeping, was enough answer for them all.

CHAPTER XX

FRANK AND JACK

"Olive, Frank, Jean, what's the use of being a professional invalid if
I'm to be shamefully neglected?" a gay voice called, and Jacqueline
Ralston, who was propped up in a big steamer chair on the porch of the
rancho, banged the book she had been reading violently against the
railing. A bright colored Mexican shawl covered her knees, she wore a
red rose stuck carelessly in her hair, and the verandah on which she was
enthroned was like a Spanish, American and Italian curiosity shop. Its
rough wooden floor was overlaid with many varieties of Indian blankets,
its walls were decorated with