It was a tremendous load taken off Dad’s shoulders, for now the enormous Roscoe machine would market the oil and collect the money. Dad’s job was new developments—the part of the game he really liked. He was a member of the board of directors of the new concern, and also a vice-president, at a salary of a hundred thousand a year, with charge of exploring and drilling; he would travel here and there and lay out the tracts and select the drilling sites, and see that every well was brought in properly, before turning it over to another executive, the superintendent of operation. It was Dad’s idea that Bunny should take a position under his father, to start with say six thousand a year, until everybody was satisfied that he knew the business; the two of them would have the time of their lives, driving all over Southern California and smelling out oil, jist like at Paradise! Bunny said that sounded good, but he’d want a little time to think it over and get used to the idea that he wasn’t going to Siberia or to France. Dad said all right, of course, he mustn’t jump into things in a hurry; but Bunny could see that he was a little pained because his son and namesake did not do that very thing! X They went up to Paradise to see the developments; and one of the first developments they saw was Ruth, who had their lunch ready in the Rascum cabin. Bunny was shocked by her appearance; she looked ten years older than when he had seen her last, her face was pale, and her smile was forced. She had given up all pretense of feminine charm, her hair was drawn back tight and tied in a knot on top of her head, and her skirts came to her ankles, which was half a leg longer than the fashion. Ruth was just setting out to be an old maid, said Meelie, and all on account of grieving her heart out about Paul. “Oh, I know he’s dead!” Ruth declared. “Just think, it’s been five months since he went away, and don’t you know Paul would have written me a lot of letters in that time?” It did seem strange; and Dad thought a bit and said, “Yes, we’ve waited long enough, and now we’ll jist find out.” “Oh, Mr. Ross, how do you mean?” cried Ruth, clasping her hands together. “Well, we ain’t lost that army altogether in Siberia, and I guess there is some way to connect up with it.” Ruth had gone paler than ever. “Oh, I don’t know as I’d dare find out! If I should hear he was dead—if I was really to know it—” “Look here, child,” said Dad, “the troubles you imagine is always a lot worse than the real ones. I want to know about my boss-carpenter, and I’m jist a-goin’ to!”