"Three cheers for ould Ireland!" Down again the full length of the room sped the flying feet; then back again. Then, whirling as birds in flight, they faced each other once more, and danced apart, and finished the dance amid deafening applause. As it continued, Lord Kelwin raised his hand for attention. "Give us the Highland fling. Here, Burns, you and Jessie Roth dance the Highland fling." "Highland fling! Highland fling!" echoed many voices. Again the center of the room was cleared, and Robert Burns led forth Jessie Roth. In a moment the air of "Bonnie Woods and Braes" shrieked from the fiddle. With rhythmic swing of body and limb, the graceful Scotch dancers kept time to the music. Up rose the arm of the girl, with inimitable grace; forward came one foot, daintily touching the floor. It was the very poetry of motion. At the close of this dance, the applause was again deafening. "Git y'r pardners fer Virginny reel!" shouted the weary fiddler. In the rush of the dancers, John Clayton was jostled against Esther Bright and Kenneth Hastings. "Well!" said he, "I believe we'd better go out to supper, and then start homeward." A brief search brought the other members of the party. They seated themselves at a long improvised table, covered with red tablecloths. There was but one course, and that included everything from roast venison and Irish stew, hot biscuit and honey, to New England doughnuts, hot tamales and whiskey. Near by sat an Indian half-breed, who, discovering a large plate of doughnuts, greedily devoured every one. As he had been drinking heavily, no one interfered, or made audible comments. When the Clayton party were about to withdraw, there were sounds of scuffling, oaths and cries, from the adjoining room, followed by a heavy thud. Some one had fallen. John Clayton rushed out, and finding one of his own cowboys in the fight, dragged him out into the open air. To keep him out of the mêlée, he sent him for their team, and he himself returned to the house for the members of his party. The leave-taking over, the spirited team dashed away from Jamison Ranch. The lights of the house grew fainter and fainter, then disappeared. The babble of voices, the clink of glasses, the clatter of spurs, the sound of dancing feet, were far behind. To the New England girl, the experience of the night seemed a strange dream; and the reality, the solemn hush of the midnight sky brooding over all. CHAPTER VI A SOUL'S AWAKENING The next evening, as the Claytons gathered about the fire, heavy footsteps were heard on the veranda. "The cowboys are just in from the range," explained the host.