“Never throw nothin’ at a bar, specially a grizzly,” Ma Peevey contributed piously. “I alwiz give a bar what it wants. Recollec’, Lena, when the big brown bar came in the door last spring lookin’ fer bacon an’ took it from the shelf, an’ took the surrup; we didn’t bother him none, an’ he didn’t bother us. Just went out ’thouten any trouble.” “How would you and Lena like to come down to the ranch for the spring roundup and help Mom with the cookin’, Miz Peevey?” Raquel asked. Mrs. Peevey started to reply affirmatively and then looked questioningly at her husband. “She don’t have to work out,” he decided grandly. “Sooner’n have her go out to work I’d work myself even.” “That sure is noble an’ generous of you, Pop.” Jami winked at Russell. Pop Peevey relished his wife’s cooking too well to part with it as long as there was a strip of bacon in the house, or a rabbit in Boy’s traps. Boy Peevey, wild little faun that he was, really kept the family in food, bringing his tribute each day to his mother. “I hate to go away count o’ Boy,” she decided, “but Lena can go if she wants.” Lena showed her wishes by a broad smile. Raquel shared Lena’s room that night, while Russell and Jami slept on shakedowns before the fire in the living-room. Lena insisted that Raquel take the bed, with its lumpy mattress of pine needles, while she slept on a shakedown on the floor at Raquel’s side. Lena took off only her dress and her shoes, and pulled a somewhat soiled flannel nightgown over her underwear. Raquel unrolled her gown, her comb, her toothbrush, and a cake of soap in a little case, from a red neckerchief which she always carried in her saddle pocket. She was tired enough with the long ride and the cold to relax comfortably into the hollows of her pine mattress, redolent of the forests that closed about the tiny cabin. Less than a month ago she had been sleeping across from Anne in a beautiful big room, fresh and fragrant. How clean and straight Anne was, how beautiful her skin, so clear and rosy, and creamy! They were just the same age, Anne and Lena. And look at poor Lena! “I want to be a school teacher.” Lena’s unexpected words, ending with a silly-sounding giggle, broke in on Raquel’s thoughts. “Why, Lena, where did you get that idea?” “Down to district school.” Lena’s eagerness dispelled her embarrassment, although she always laughed at everything Raquel said, because poor Lena was so glad to be with another girl that she could express her happiness only by laughing. “The teacher there said I could learn. I think it’s awful nice to be a teacher. I bin through the sixth grade.” “I think it would be lovely, Lena,” Raquel answered. “Perhaps you could work this summer and save some money, and then if you got work in Alamo this winter you could get ready for the State Normal.”