hoose a life
absolutely different. I have told you why I wish to educate my daughter.
But why, feeling as you must have felt and must still feel, since you're
here, why do you wish to educate this waif boy you've picked up? By all
the standards of convention, he is at the very bottom of the social
scale. Why do you want to do this?"

It was a psychological moment. Even in the semi-darkness, Rankin felt
the other's eyes fixed piercingly upon him. He passed his hand over his
face; he seemed about to speak. But the habit of reticence was too
strong upon him. Even the inspiration of the Englishman's confidence
was not sufficient to break the seal of his own reserve. He arose slowly
and shook the clinging wisps of hay from his clothes.

"For somewhat the same reason as your own," he answered at last. "Ben,
like Flossie, is a child, an odd old child to be sure, but nevertheless
a child. I have no reason to know that when he grows up his beliefs will
be my beliefs. He must see both sides of the coin, and judge for
himself."

The speaker paused, then walked slowly over to the old buckboard. "It's
getting late, and I've got a long drive home." With an effort he mounted
into the seat and picked up the reins. "Good-night."

Scotty hesitated a moment, and then said, "Good-night."

CHAPTER VIII

THE GLITTER OF THE UNKNOWN

Twelve years slipped by. Short as they seemed to those actually living
them, they had brought great material changes. No longer did the ranch
cattle graze at the will of their owners, but, under stress of
competition, they browsed within the confines of miles upon miles of
galvanized fencing. Neighbors, as Rankin said, were near now. There were
four within a radius of twenty miles. To be sure, there was still plenty
of land west of them, beyond the broad muddy Missouri,--open rough land,
gradually rising in elevation, where a traveller could journey for days
and days without seeing a human face. But this was not then a part of
the so-called "cattle ranges." In the parlance of the country, that was
"West,"--a place to hunt in, a refuge for criminals, but as yet giving
no indication of ever becoming of practical use.

The Box R Ranch had evolved along with the others, and always well in
advance. The house now boasted six rooms; the barn and stock-sheds had
at a distance the appearance of a town in themselves; the collection of
haying implements--mowers, loaders, stackers--was almost complete enough