He had said little to her regarding the men. "They 'tend to business," was his invariable response when she sought to question him. "It's a pretty wild life," he told her when one day about two weeks after her coming she had pressed him; "an' the boys just can't help kickin' over the traces once in a while." "Chavis and Pickett good men?" she asked. "You saw anything to show you they ain't?" he said, with a queer look at her. "Why, no," she returned. But her cheeks reddened. He looked at her with a peculiar squint. "Seems like Masten runnin' with them shows that they ain't nothin' wrong with them," he said. She had no reply to make to this, but she was vaguely disturbed over the expression in Vickers' eyes; that look seemed to indicate that her own first impression of the two men, and Uncle Jepson's later condemnation of them, might be correct. However, they did not bother her, and she felt certain that Masten could care for himself. With Masten absent with Chavis and Pickett nearly every day, Ruth had much time to herself. The river attracted her, and she rode to it many times, on a slant-eyed pony that Vickers had selected for her, and which had been gentled by a young cowpuncher brought in from an outlying camp solely for that purpose by the range boss. The young puncher had been reluctant to come, and he was equally reluctant to go. "This here cayuse," he said to Vickers, when the latter instructed him to return to his outfit, saying that Miss Ruth thought she could now ride the pony without trouble, "is got a heap of devilment in him, yet--which ought to come out." "Miss Ruth's got a fellow," said the range boss, in seeming irrelevance. But the young puncher sneered a malignant denial and rode away to his camp. There were fourteen other men employed by the Flying W. Ruth met them at various times. Invariably they were looking for strays. They seemed--some of them--content to look at her; others, bolder, manufactured ingenuous pretexts to talk; but--all were gentlemen. She arose one morning during the third week of her stay at the ranch, to be greeted by one of those perfect days that late spring brings. It had been dry for a week, with a hint of receding chill in the air, and the comfort of a wrap was still felt. But on this morning the sun was showing his power, and a balmy south breeze that entered her window was burdened with the aroma of sage, strong and delicious. She got out of bed and looked out of the window. It was a changed world. Summer had come overnight. No morning in the East had ever made her feel quite like this. Out on the front porch later in the morning, with Chavis and Pickett standing near, she asked Masten to ride with her. He seemed annoyed, but spoke persuasively. "Put it off a day, won't you, Ruth? There's a good girl. I've promised to go to Lazette with the boys this morning, and I don't want to disappoint them." Then, seeing the disappointment in her eyes, he added: "Where did you want to ride?"