The drive through the cool of the early evening to the ranch, which lay only three miles from the trading post, fully awakened and refreshed Bess. She was longing to ask the reticent man by her side a hundred questions regarding the injured one, but she refrained, intuitively feeling that she would be touching a heart-wound. The slight hesitancy of the lariat, the sudden outburst of passion, revealed to her woman’s instinct the secret hatred of Henry West, which all his sympathy and tenderness afterward could not hide. At last he spoke: “Mother will not have dinner until we return. You must be nearly famished, for Mrs. White told me that you had fallen asleep before she could offer you any refreshment. I cannot tell you how sorry I am that you should have experienced such an ordeal. Mr. Da—— the Agent,” he said, with a marked effort at composure, “has been made comfortable, and when I left the ranch to come after you, mother said he had fallen asleep. My mother, years ago, had a thorough course of training in professional nursing, and the knowledge has been invaluable to her. The doctors at the agency or at the mission are so far away that in emergency cases she is always sought. I sent one of the men after a physician, but he can do no more than mother has already done.” “There is my home, Miss Fletcher,” he continued, as they came in sight of the ranch. “How I love it! I hope you may be contented and happy as long as it is to be your home and James’.” True hospitality sounded in his deep voice and shone from his now grave yet friendly eyes. “Oh! Thank you, Mr. West. Anyone who could not find both happiness and contentment amid all this beauty would be very hard to please. It will be the first real home I have ever known—nearly all my life has been spent at school. Dear me! I expect you think I should have unlimited knowledge,” she added lightly. She gazed with interest about her. There stood the large, square, white house, with its wide porches and many windows, within a stone’s throw of the deep, blue water of Flathead Lake. Up the hill a short distance from the house in a clump of willows was a magnificent spring, whose cool, crystal water was made to flow down to the house and into the corral. Great barns, hay sheds and granaries were back of the house, and comfortable poultry houses and roomy ice-houses were also to be seen. Even a blacksmith shop with its glowing fire caught Bess’ interested gaze, and she wondered at the completeness of the ranch and marveled at the brains that could manage such a large and varied establishment. Quite near the house stood a teepee, and Bess could not repress a smile as Henry West told her what it was and that the old Indian and his wife who assisted his mother could not be induced to sleep indoors, so pitched their teepee in the yard for their greater comfort.