“And I never realized till then how easy you had made it for me, Jimmy, tellin’ me such interestin’ things about the people in history as we went along. So I got fine marks in history and it was only because I knew their lives.” Jimmy’s face broke into the smile that had won him the instantaneous liking of the Ranch of the Lazy L. “It’s worth a lot to hear you say that, Raquel; I--oh, well, you know. There’s nothing I could do would repay what this ranch and this family have done for me.” Raquel had a vague feeling of disappointment. Well, Jimmy was so nice of course he would feel like doing all he could. But she wished he hadn’t said that about repaying--or that he’d said he taught her because he wanted to anyway. And Jimmy, strangely at a loss for him, was trying to find words to make his appreciation more personal; to say what she herself had meant to him, and that there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. And then--it was time to go, and he hadn’t said anything. They were blowing the horn outside. He and Raquel hurried out to the Pathfinder where Dad was already stowing away his grip, the same one that Raquel had taken away to school and had hastily unpacked for Dad’s use last night. In the sorrow at parting with Dad, Raquel forgot Jimmy’s going. But Jimmy himself thought about his lost opportunity all the way into town, and was kicking himself for his stiffness, his tongue-tied stupidity. CHAPTER IV TAKING STOCK Raquel had been home two weeks. It had been, as luck would have it, a busy time from the minute of Dad’s going. Jami had driven Mr. Daniels and Jimmy into town and had come roaring back within an hour and a half at nearly sixty miles an hour, so that even with the handicap of the arroyo to cross he had to brake the Pathfinder down with a skidding of tires that brought Russell and Raquel running from the corrals. Jami, heady with the freedom of the car, swung carelessly out and, without a backward glance at the steaming radiator, strode off toward the bunkhouse. Raquel went quickly up to the car. The engine was fairly smoking. The tires were hot and showed the wear of the sudden braking down and skidding. The back tires were gouged with bad stone bruises, and as she and Russell stood there suddenly one went flat. It had been perforated by a sharp rock. Raquel was furious. She followed quickly down towards the bunkhouse. “Jami,” she called softly, “Jami. Come here a minute, will you?” And to Russell, “You go on in and take Mom these packages, will you, Russ?” “Jami,” as he came up sheepishly, sensing something wrong, “do you think that’s the way to treat property, the minute Dad’s back is turned? Look at the radiator. Not a drop left in it. And on a winter’s day at that. Look at the tires. Six months’ wear taken out of them so you can ’ride ’em, cowboy, ride ’em.”