ath for
Tim Sullivan's ranch.

"Do you know Mr. Sullivan?" she asked. And as she lifted her eyes
Mackenzie saw that they were as blue as asters on an October morning,
and that her hair was a warm reddish-brown, and that her face was
refreshingly pure in its outline, strong and haughty and brown, and
subtly sweet as the elusive perfume of a wild rose of the hills.

"No, I don't know Mr. Sullivan; I've never even seen him. I've heard a
lot about him down at Jasper--I was the schoolteacher there."

"Oh, you're up here on your vacation?" said she, a light of quick
interest in her eyes, an unmistakable friendliness in her voice. It
was as if he had presented a letter from somebody well and favorably
known.

"No, I've come up here to see about learning the sheep business."

"Sheep business?" said she, looking at him with surprised eyes. "Sheep
business?" this time with a shading of disgust. "Well, if I had sense
enough to teach school I'd never want to see another sheep!"

Mackenzie smiled at her impetuous outburst in which she revealed in a
word the discontent of her heart.

"Of course you know Mr. Sullivan?"

"He's my father," she returned. "This is my brother Charley; there are
eight more of us at home."

Charley grinned, his shyness still over him, but his alarm quieted,
and gave Mackenzie his hand.

"The ranch is about thirteen or fifteen miles on up the creek from
here," she said, "You haven't had your breakfast, have you?"

"No; I just about finished my grub yesterday."

"I didn't see any grease around your gills," said the girl, in quite a
matter-of-fact way, no flippancy in her manner. "Charley, stir up the
fire, will you? I can't offer you much, Mr. Mackenzie, but you're
welcome to what there is. How about a can of beans?"

"You've hit me right where I live, Miss Sullivan."

The collies came warily up, stiff-legged, with backs still ruffled,
and sniffed Mackenzie over. They seemed to find him harmless, turning
from him presently to go and lie beside Charley, their faces toward
the flock, alert ears lifted, white breasts gleaming in the sun like
the linen of fastidious gentlemen.

"Do you want me to get any water, Joan?" Charley inquired.

Joan answered from inside the wagon that no water was needed, there
was coffee enough in the pot. She handed the smoke-blackened vessel
out to Mackenzie as she spoke, telling him to go and put it on the
fire.

Joan turned the beans into the pan after cooking t