He hesitated, pulling a hemlock branch through his slim fingers with nervous energy. Then he began again: "I ’ve been reading a lot lately about life on one of those Western ranches--real ranch life, I mean; not Eastern play at it. I ’ve a cousin who went to Montana six years ago. I get a letter from him once in a while. He’s a Westerner now, full-fledged. I doubt if he ever comes East again to stay. I ’ve written him to ask if he has any room for a tenderfoot on his ranch, and if he says he ’ll take me in, I think I ’ll go." "Right away?" "Right away, if father agrees--and I think he will. He ’ll be only too glad to have me take the chance of making a man out of myself, instead of a bloodless bookworm." Murray turned over with a short laugh, and propping his chin on his elbows, lay looking at Jane. "How long shall you stay?" "Long enough to do the business. A year, if necessary. When I come back, I ’ll probably be wearing leather leggings with fringes, a handkerchief round my neck, and a sombrero. I ’ve no doubt the cowboys will have played tricks enough on me to prove satisfactorily to all concerned whether I ’m a man or a mushroom." Jane looked steadily down at the face below her, and realised that it was a face of strength as well as of fineness. The eyes which met hers were enlivened by a determination she had never seen in them before, and her answer brought into them a light which surprised and pleased her. "I think it’s the best plan in the world," she said, heartily, "and I know it will succeed. Nobody ever set himself to accomplishing anything without accomplishing either that thing or something better." "What could the ’something better’ be in my case?" "I don’t know. Do you?" The question was a challenge. Murray sat up. A tinge of red crept into his cheek. "Yes, I know," he answered. "So do you, I think. You put it into my head. Am I a coward, that I can’t decide to give myself over to my father and the business?" "No. But you are planning to put your shoulder to his wheel somehow--I know you are, or you would n’t be trying so hard to strengthen that shoulder." "You’re a wizard--or a witch." Murray spoke soberly; then he laughed, as the two pairs of eyes met, and he caught the fire in Jane’s. "Are you always so sure of your friends?" "Always. If I have a friend, I believe in--her--whether she wants me to or not. She always proves me right." "Suppose it ’him’? "I don’t know so much about the ’hims,’" said Jane, "except my brothers. The rule works with them." "You must be an inspiring sister. You ’ve brothers enough already, I suppose, but I wish you ’d adopt another. My sister--she can’t be far from your age, but she seems years younger. She has n’t thought about things the way you have. Look here! If I go to Montana for a year, I shall be pretty lonesome sometimes, I expect. Will you let me write to you?"