The round-up took longer this spring than usual. There were more calves to be branded, and several days of unpropitious weather delayed the men. It was nearly three weeks since Henry West and his cowboys and the foreman had started to join the others on the range. Eagerly had Bess and Mrs. West watched for their return. News came, when the boys were over on Sullivan Creek, that everything was progressing nicely and that they would soon be through, unless had weather prevented. For the first time since Bess came to the ranch she felt lonely. She did not care to read, and her music seemed tame and uninteresting. She sewed until Mrs. West compelled her to stop, for she could see that the girl was growing nervous over it. A dozen times a day she would walk to the gate and scan the road toward Polson, hoping that James might be coming. One day, noticing that Bess seemed to be unusually quiet, Mrs. West suggested that they go to Kalispell to visit some friends and do some shopping. “It is a beautiful trip up the lake and Flathead River, and I am sure, dear, that you would enjoy it. We can go better while the men are away than later, and besides, I want to ask some friends here for the July celebration, which the Indians will have next month.” “Oh, that would be fine!” said Bess, as she brightened up. “I am so anxious to see what kind of a Montana city Kalispell is. Could we go on the boat this noon, do you think?” “We will hurry and try. It will not take me long to arrange matters. You put a few things into a suit case, while I give the Indian woman some instructions.” Shortly Bess was ready and hurried into the library to leave a note for James and Henry, should they return while she and Mrs. West were away. They reached the boat in ample time, and were pleasantly engaged in conversation with several other passengers who were also going to Kalispell when Bess heard her name spoken. She did not turn her head and gave no outward sign, save a vivid wave of color. Again she heard the word “Bess,” as if it came to her from a breeze off the lake, and she unconsciously summoned all her strength to resist turning about. “Why, Bess!” said Mrs. White, who had walked down to the pier and onto the boat with them, “some one must be speaking of you, for see how your ears are burning,” and she jokingly gave one of them a tiny pull. Just then Mrs. West caught sight of a tall, handsome man who still had a slight limp in his walk, as he stepped upon the gang plank. “Good morning, ladies! It looks as if wishing you ‘bon voyage’ were opportune.” Bess turned and acknowledged the greeting of Mr. Davis. His eyes sought hers with that strange fascination which possessed them the last time she had seen him, and held her gaze. She suddenly grew dumb and cold, and with a visible effort controlled herself. “Are you not well this morning, Miss Fletcher?” he asked, in a solicitous voice, as he stepped directly before her, holding out his hand.