and the fun that
girl had----"

"Jane Ann didn't think 'twas nice enough for her," grunted the
ranchman. "She wanted high-heeled slippers--and shift--shift-on
hats--and a pianner! Common things warn't good enough for Jane Ann."

Ruth laughed, for she wasn't at all afraid of the big Westerner. "If
chiffon hats and French heeled slippers would have kept Nita--I mean,
Jane Ann--at home, wouldn't it have been cheaper for you to have bought
'em?" she asked.

"It shore would!" declared the cattleman, emphatically. "But when the
little girl threatened to run away I didn't think she meant it."

Meanwhile Miss Kate had asked Tom to take the big man up stairs where
he could remove the marks of travel. In half an hour he was at the table
putting away a breakfast that made even Mammy Laura open her eyes in
wonder.

"I'm a heavy feeder, Miss," he said apologetically, to Ruth. "Since
I been East I often have taken my breakfast in two restaurants, them air
waiters stare so. I git it in relays, as ye might say. Them restaurant
people ain't used to seeing a _man_ eat. And great cats! how they do
charge for vittles!"

But ugly as he was, and big and rude as he was, there was a simplicity
and open-heartedness about Mr. Hicks that attracted more than Ruth
Fielding. The boys, because Tom was enthusiastic about the old fellow,
came in first. But the girls were not far behind, and by the time Mr.
Hicks had finished breakfast the whole party was in the room, listening
to his talk of his lost niece, and stories of Silver Ranch and the
growing and wonderful West.

Mercy Curtis, who had a sharp tongue and a sharper insight into
character, knew just how to draw Bill Hicks out. And the ranchman, as
soon as he understood that Mercy was a cripple, paid her the most
gallant attentions. And he took the lame girl's sharp criticisms in good
part, too.

"So you thought you could bring up a girl baby from the time she could
crawl till she was old enough to get married--eh?" demanded Mercy, in
her whimsical way. "What a smart man you are, Mr. Bill Hicks!"

"Ya-as--ain't I?" he groaned. "I see now I didn't know nothin'."

"Not a living thing!" agreed Mercy. "Bringing up a girl among a lot of
cow--cow--what do you call 'em?"

"Punchers," he finished, wagging his head.

"That's it. Nice society for a girl. Likely to make her ladylike and
real happy, too."

"Great cats!" ejaculated the ranchman, "I thought I was doin' the
square thing by Jane