e house.

Baby on hip, Ma Watts, assisted by Microby Dandeline and Lillian
Russell, attacked the dishes. All offers of help from Patty were
declined.

"Yo' welcome to stay yere jest as long as yo' want to, honey, an' yo'
hain't got to work none neither. They's a old piece o' stack-cover
somewheres around an' them young-uns kin rig 'em up a tent an' sleep
in hit all summer, an' yo' kin hev their shake-down like yo' done las'
night. I s'pose yo're yere about yo' pa's claim?"

"Yes," answered the girl, "and I certainly appreciate your
hospitality. I hope I can repay you some day, but I cannot think of
settling myself upon you this way. My work will take me out into the
hills and----"

"Jest like yo' pa usta say. He wus that fond o' rale home cookin' thet
he'd come 'long every onct in a month 'er so, an' git him a squr meal,
an' then away he'd go out to his camp."

"Where was his camp?" asked the girl eagerly.

"Lawzie, his camp wus a tent, an' he moved hit around so they couldn't
no one tell from one day to 'nother where he'd be at. But, he never
wus no great ways from here, gen'ally within ten mile, one way er
'nother. Hits out yonder in the barn--his tent an' outfit--pick an'
pan an' shovel an' dishes, all ready to throw onto his pack hoss
which hits a mewl an' runnin' in the hills with them hosses of ourn.
If hit wusn't fer the fences they'd be in the pasture. Watts aims to
fix 'em when he gits time."

"I don't know much about tents, but I guess I'll have to use it, that
is, if there isn't another ranch, or a--a house, or something, where I
can rent a room all to myself."

"Great sakes, child! They hain't another ranch within twenty-five
mile, an' thet's towards town." As if suddenly smitten with an idea,
she paused with her hand full of dishes and called loudly to her
spouse:

"Watts! Watts!"

The chair was eased to its four legs, and the lank form appeared in
the doorway. "Yeh?"

"How about the sheep camp?"

The man's fingers fumbled at his beard and he appeared plunged into
deep thought. "What yo' mean, how 'bout hit?"

"Why not we-all leave Mr. Sinclair's darter live up there?"

Again the thoughtful silence. At length the man spoke: "Why, shore,
she kin stay there long as she likes, an' welcome."

"Hit's a cabin four mile up the crick," explained Ma Watts, "what we
built on our upper desert fer a man thet wanted to run a band o'
sheep. He wus rentin' the range offen us, till they druv him off--t