“Bo, I've had much to worry me--and the worst is yet to come,” replied Helen. Then she told Bo how complicated and bewildering was the management of a big ranch--when the owner was ill, testy, defective in memory, and hard as steel--when he had hoards of gold and notes, but could not or would not remember his obligations--when the neighbor ranchers had just claims--when cowboys and sheep-herders were discontented, and wrangled among themselves--when great herds of cattle and flocks of sheep had to be fed in winter--when supplies had to be continually freighted across a muddy desert and lastly, when an enemy rancher was slowly winning away the best hands with the end in view of deliberately taking over the property when the owner died. Then Helen told how she had only that day realized the extent of Carmichael's advice and help and labor--how, indeed, he had been a brother to her--how-- But at this juncture Bo buried her face in Helen's breast and began to cry wildly. “I--I--don't want--to hear--any more,” she sobbed. “Well, you've got to hear it,” replied Helen, inexorably “I want you to know how he's stood by me.” “But I hate him.” “Bo, I suspect that's not true.” “I do--I do.” “Well, you act and talk very strangely then.” “Nell Rayner--are--you--you sticking up for that--that devil?” “I am, yes, so far as it concerns my conscience,” rejoined Helen, earnestly. “I never appreciated him as he deserved--not until now. He's a man, Bo, every inch of him. I've seen him grow up to that in three months. I'd never have gotten along without him. I think he's fine, manly, big. I--” “I'll bet--he's made love--to you, too,” replied Bo, woefully. “Talk sense,” said Helen, sharply. “He has been a brother to me. But, Bo Rayner, if he HAD made love to me I--I might have appreciated it more than you.” Bo raised her face, flushed in part and also pale, with tear-wet cheeks and the telltale blaze in the blue eyes. “I've been wild about that fellow. But I hate him, too,” she said, with flashing spirit. “And I want to go on hating him. So don't tell me any more.” Whereupon Helen briefly and graphically related how Carmichael had offered to kill Beasley, as the only way to save her property, and how, when she refused, that he threatened he would do it anyhow. Bo fell over with a gasp and clung to Helen. “Oh--Nell! Oh, now I love him more than--ever,” she cried, in mingled rage and despair. Helen clasped her closely and tried to comfort her as in the old days, not so very far back, when troubles were not so serious as now. “Of course you love him,” she concluded. “I guessed that long ago. And I'm glad. But you've been wilful--foolish. You wouldn't surrender to it. You wanted your fling with the other boys. You're--Oh, Bo, I fear you have been a sad little flirt.”