There was a marvelous change in the dress and deportment of cowboys off duty. There were some clean and happy and interested children. There was a rather taciturn and lonely young rancher who was given to thoughtful dreams and whose keen eyes watched the little adobe schoolhouse under the cottonwoods. And in Jane Stacey’s face a rich bloom and tan had begun to warm out the paleness. It was not often that Jane left the schoolhouse without meeting one of Springer’s cowboys. She met Tex most frequently and, according to Andy, that fact was because Tex was foreman and could send the boys off to the ends of the range. And this afternoon Jane encountered the foreman. He was clean-shaven, bright and eager, a superb figure. Tex had been lucky enough to have a gun with him one day when a rattlesnake frightened the school teacher and he had shot the reptile. Miss Stacey had leaned against him in her fright; she had been grateful; she had admired his wonderful skill with a gun and had murmured that a woman always would be safe with such a man. Thereafter Tex packed his gun unmindful of the ridicule of his rivals. “Miss Stacey, come, for a little ride, won’t you?” he asked, eagerly. The cowboys had already taught her how to handle a horse and to ride; and if all they said of her appearance and accomplishment were true she was indeed worth watching. “I’m sorry,” replied Jane. “I promised Nevada I’d ride with him today.” “I reckon Nevada is miles an’ miles up the valley by now,” replied Tex. “He won’t be back till long after dark.” “But he made an engagement with me,” protested the school mistress. “An’ shore he has to work. He’s ridin’ for Springer, an’ I’m foreman of this ranch,” said Tex. “You sent him off on some long chase,” averred Jane severely. “Now didn’t you? Tell me the truth.” “I shore did. He comes crowin’ down to the bunk-house—about how he’s goin’ to ride with you an’ how we-all are not in the runnin’. I says, ‘Nevada, I reckon there’s a steer mired in the sand up in Cedar Wash. You ride up there an’ pull him out.’” “And then what did he say?” inquired Jane, curiously. “Why, Miss Stacey, shore I hate to tell you. I didn’t think he was so—so bad. He just used the most awful language as was ever heard on this heah ranch. Then he rode off.” “But _was_ there a steer mired up in the Wash?” “I reckon so,” replied Tex, rather shamefacedly. “Most always is one.” Jane let scornful eyes rest upon the foreman. “That was a mean trick,” she said. “There’s been worse done to me by him, an’ all of them. An’ all’s fair in love an’ war.... Will you ride with me?” “No. I think I’ll ride off alone up Cedar Wash and help Nevada find that mired steer.” “Miss Stacey, you’re shore not goin’ to ride off alone. Savvy that?” “Who’ll keep me from it?” demanded Jane, with spirit.