She surprised him by reappearing in her working-gown, but shod with strong, low-heeled shoes. "Good evening, Mr. Forest Ranger," she said, smiling, yet perturbed. "I didn't recognize you at first. Won't you 'picket' and come in?" She said this in the tone of one consciously assuming the vernacular. "Thank you, I believe I will," he replied, with candid heartiness. "I was riding one of my lower trails to-day, so I just thought I'd drop down and see how you were all coming on." "We are quite well, thank you. Daddy's away just this minute. One of our cows hid her calf in the hills, and he's trying to find it. Won't you put your horse in the corral?" "No; he's all right. He's a good deal like me--works better on a small ration. A standing siesta will just about do him." A gleam of humor shone in her eyes. "Neither of you 'pear to be suffering from lack of food. But come in, please, and have a seat." He followed her into the cabin, keenly alive to the changes in her dress as well as in her manner. She wore her hair plainly parted, as at the hearing, but it lay much lower about her brow and rippled charmingly. She stood perfectly erect, also, and moved with a fine stride, and the lines of her shoulders, even under a rough gray shirtwaist, were strong and graceful. Though not skilled in analyzing a woman's "outfit," the ranger divined that she wore no corset, for the flex of her powerful waist was like that of a young man. Her speech was noticeably Southern in accent, as if it were a part of her masquerade, but she brought him a chair and confronted him without confusion. In this calm dignity he read something entirely flattering to himself. "Evidently she considers me a friend as well as an officer," he reasoned. "I hope you are a little hungry," she said. "I'd like to have you break bread in our house. You were mighty kind to us the other day." "Oh, I'm hungry," he admitted, meeting her hospitality half-way. "Seems like I'm always hungry. You see, I cook my own grub, and my bill of fare isn't what you'd call extensive, and, besides, a man's cooking never relishes the way a woman's does, anyhow." "I'll see what I can find for you," she said, and hurried out. While waiting he studied the room in which he sat with keenest interest. It was rather larger than the usual living-room in a mountain home, but it had not much else to distinguish it. The furniture was of the kind to be purchased in the near-by town, and the walls were roughly ceiled with cypress boards; but a few magazines, some books on a rude shelf, a fiddle-box under the table, and a guitar hanging on a nail gave evidence of refinement and taste and spoke to him of pleasures which he had only known afar. The guitar especially engaged his attention. "I wonder if she sings?" he asked himself.