"Gosh, yes! But I reckoned on getting Mis' Polk and Mis' Harry Frieze to take turns coming over yere and livin' with yuh." "But that isn't all dad wanted," continued the girl, shaking her head. "Besides, you know both Mrs. Polk and Mrs. Frieze are widows, and will be looking for husbands. We'd maybe lose some of the best boys we've got, if they came here," said Helen, her eyes twinkling. "Great jumping Jehosaphat! I never thought of that," declared the foreman, suddenly scared. "I never _did_ like that Polk woman's eye. I wouldn't, mebbe, be safe myse'f; would I?" "I'm afraid not," Helen gravely agreed. "So, you see, to please dad, I'll have to go to New York. I don't mean to stay for all time, Hen. But I want to give it a try-out." She sounded Dud Stone a good bit about the big city. Dud had to stay several days at Sunset Ranch because he couldn't ride very well with his injured foot. And finally, when he did go back to Badger's, they took him in a buckboard. To tell the truth, Dud was not altogether glad to go. He was a boyish chap despite the fact that he was nearly through law school, and a sixteen-year-old girl like Helen Morrell--especially one of her character--appealed to him strongly. He admired the capable way in which she managed things about the ranch-house. Sing obeyed her as though she were a man. There was a "rag-head" who had somehow worked his way across the mountains from the coast, and that Hindoo about worshipped "Missee Sahib." The two or three Greasers working about the ranch showed their teeth in broad smiles, and bowed most politely when she appeared. And as for the punchers and wranglers, they were every one as loyal to Snuggy as they had been to her father. The Easterner realized that among all the girls he knew back home, either of her age or older, there was none so capable as Helen Morrell. And there were few any prettier. "You're going right to relatives when you reach New York; are you, Miss Morrell?" asked Dud, just before he climbed into the buckboard to return to his friend's ranch. "Oh, yes. I shall go to Aunt Eunice," said the girl, decidedly. "No need of my warning you against bunco men and card sharpers," chuckled Dud, "for your folks will look out for you. But remember: You'll be just as much a tenderfoot there as I am here." "I shall take care," she returned, laughing. "And--and I hope I may see you in New York," said Dud, hesitatingly. "Why, I hope we shall run across each other," replied Helen, calmly. She was not sure that it would be the right thing to invite this young man to call upon her at the Starkweathers'. "I'd better ask Aunt Eunice about that first," she decided, to herself. So she shook hands heartily with Dud Stone and let him ride away, never appearing to notice his rather wistful look. She was to see the time, however, when she would be very glad of a friend like Dud Stone in the great city.