Jim laughed. "The _business_ in which you are engaged? Why, boy, you sound like a first national bank. If you had any business of your own--if you was the owner of an outfit, an' could give Kitty the--well--the things her education has taught her to need, it would be different. I know you're a fine man, all right, but you're only a poor cow-puncher just the same. I'm speakin' for your own good, Phil, as well as for Kitty's," he added, with an effort at kindliness. "Then, if I had a good business, it would be different?" "Yes, son, it would sure make all the difference in the world." "Thank you," said the cowboy quietly, as he handed Mr. Reid a very legal looking envelope. "I happen to be half owner of this ranch and outfit. With my own property, it makes a fairly good start for a man of my age. My partner, Mr. Lawrence Knight, leaves the active management wholly in my hands; and he has abundant capital to increase our holdings and enlarge our operations just as fast as we can handle the business." The big man looked from the papers to the lad, then back to the papers. Then a broad smile lighted his heavy face, as he said, "I give it up--you win. You young fellers are too swift for me. I've been wantin' to retire anyway." He raised his voice and called, "Kitty--oh, Kitty!" The girl appeared in the doorway. "Come and get him," said Reid. "I guess he's yours." Helen Manning was sitting on the front porch of that little cottage on the mountain side where she and Stanford began their years of home-building. A half mile below she could see the mining buildings that were grouped about the shaft in picturesque disorder. Above, the tree-clad ridge rose against the sky. It was too far from the great world of cities, some would have said, but Helen did not find it so. With her books and her music, and the great out-of-doors; and with the companionship of her mate and the dreams they dreamed together, her woman heart was never lonely. She lowered the book she was reading, and looked through the open window to the clock in the living-room. A little while, and she would go down the hill to Stanford, for they loved to walk home together. Then, before lifting the printed page again, she looked over the wide view of rugged mountain sides and towering peaks that every day held for her some new beauty. She had resumed her reading when the sound of horses' feet attracted her attention. Patches and Yavapai Joe were riding up the hill. They stopped at the gate, and while Joe held Stranger's bridle rein, Patches came to Helen as she stood on the porch waiting to receive him. "Surely you will stay for the night," she urged when they had exchanged greetings, and had talked for a little while. "No," he answered quietly. "I just came this way to say good-by; I stopped for a few minutes with Stan at the office. He said I would find you here." "But where are you going?" she asked.