"If all time were but wasted like this," he exclaimed softly, prolonging the task. She knew that he was taking undue advantage of the situation and that she was strangely glad of it, recklessly glad, in her own fashion. She had never looked at him so closely before. In this position he could not see her. She noticed his broad, white forehead, and felt a strong desire to touch the hair that dropped over it, then admonished herself for feeling glad at his slowness. From the hillside above them a man on a piebald horse watched the scene interestedly. Without warning the girl's eyes lifted suddenly from the soft, brown hair so near, and met those of the rider above. Livingston's head was bent close to her own, so that he did not see the leering, grinning face that peered down at them, but Hope caught the look direct, and all, and more, than it seemed to imply. Her eyes glittered with anger. Like a flash her hand sought her blouse and for an instant the bright sunlight gleamed upon a small weapon. As quickly the man wheeled his horse and disappeared behind the hill. With a deep flush the girl hid the little revolver as Livingston, ignorant of the scene, triumphantly held up for inspection the rescued fishhook. "Making love, by the holy smoke," chuckled Shorty Smith to himself, spurring up his piebald horse and heading off a stray calf. "So that's what she does 'longside o' teachin' kids!" CHAPTER XVII Upon the highest ridge between the camp and old Peter's basin Hope and the twins met Ned riding slowly along, his sturdy little legs drawn up into the straps of a man's saddle. He had an old, discarded felt hat of his father's, several sizes too large for him, pulled down until his ears laid flat along the brim. From under its wide, dingy expanse his sharp, little black eyes peered out inquisitively. In imitation of a certain French breed whom he greatly admired, a large red handkerchief was knotted about his waist. He made a picturesque little figure in the bright sunlight as he rode leisurely toward them. "Where've you all been?" he called at the top of his boyish treble. "You boys're goin' to catch it if you don't bring in those cows before dark!" "Who told you?" roared Dave. "The old man told me to come an' look you fellers up. Where've you been?" inquired the child, riding up alongside and swinging his horse into pace with the others. "Now you want to find out something," said Dan complacently. "I don't _care_ where you've been," said the child indignantly, "but you'd better be roundin' in them cows or you'll catch it!" Hope rode up beside him. "I'm sorry you weren't home when we left. We've been over at my cousin's camp. The next time you shall go along."