“No. We're nieces of Al Auchincloss,” rejoined Helen. “Wal, you don't say! I've been down Magdalena way an' heerd of Al.... Reckon you're goin' a-visitin'?” “It's to be home for us.” “Shore thet's fine. The West needs girls.... Yes, I've heerd of Al. An old Arizona cattle-man in a sheep country! Thet's bad.... Now I'm wonderin'--if I'd drift down there an' ask him for a job ridin' for him--would I get it?” His lazy smile was infectious and his meaning was as clear as crystal water. The gaze he bent upon Bo somehow pleased Helen. The last year or two, since Bo had grown prettier all the time, she had been a magnet for admiring glances. This one of the cowboy's inspired respect and liking, as well as amusement. It certainly was not lost upon Bo. “My uncle once said in a letter that he never had enough men to run his ranch,” replied Helen, smiling. “Shore I'll go. I reckon I'd jest naturally drift that way--now.” He seemed so laconic, so easy, so nice, that he could not have been taken seriously, yet Helen's quick perceptions registered a daring, a something that was both sudden and inevitable in him. His last word was as clear as the soft look he fixed upon Bo. Helen had a mischievous trait, which, subdue it as she would, occasionally cropped out; and Bo, who once in her wilful life had been rendered speechless, offered such a temptation. “Maybe my little sister will put in a good word for you--to Uncle Al,” said Helen. Just then the train jerked, and started slowly. The cowboy took two long strides beside the car, his heated boyish face almost on a level with the window, his eyes, now shy and a little wistful, yet bold, too, fixed upon Bo. “Good-by--Sweetheart!” he called. He halted--was lost to view. “Well!” ejaculated Helen, contritely, half sorry, half amused. “What a sudden young gentleman!” Bo had blushed beautifully. “Nell, wasn't he glorious!” she burst out, with eyes shining. “I'd hardly call him that, but he was--nice,” replied Helen, much relieved that Bo had apparently not taken offense at her. It appeared plain that Bo resisted a frantic desire to look out of the window and to wave her hand. But she only peeped out, manifestly to her disappointment. “Do you think he--he'll come to Uncle Al's?” asked Bo. “Child, he was only in fun.” “Nell, I'll bet you he comes. Oh, it'd be great! I'm going to love cowboys. They don't look like that Harve Riggs who ran after you so.” Helen sighed, partly because of the reminder of her odious suitor, and partly because Bo's future already called mysteriously to the child. Helen had to be at once a mother and a protector to a girl of intense and wilful spirit.