The Ranch Girls and the Silver Arrow, by Margaret Vandercook

On either side of them arose tall cliffs. Overhead the sky showed a deep warm blue. A stream of water flowed along, ending in a small lake at some distance ahead.

"Absurd to have undertaken such a trip to-day of all days, Jeanette! Why keep up the pretense that we are not lost? As we will find our way home eventually, ordinarily I should not mind, but to be late this afternoon may create a situation that will be difficult to explain!"

"Nonsense, Lina. What does it matter? I for one do not care if we are not at home when father and our new stepmother reach there. I hope to be polite, but I won't pretend enthusiasm.

"What was the line of poetry we were trying to recall when we followed this new road down into the canyon?" asked Jeanette, wishing to divert her older sister's attention,

the other girl repeated with a slight note of self-satisfaction. One so often feels this in remembering what other people have forgotten.

The four girls were daughters of Jim Colter of the Rainbow Ranch. His first wife had died, and he had married Jacqueline Ralston Kent, a former Ranch Girl much younger than himself, and was returning to the ranch with his bride after the honeymoon. The oldest of the girls was about fifteen years of age, the next fourteen, then twelve and eight.

"We have pursued a strange road. We seem to have descended into the heart of the world. Yet we were scarcely stifled at the ranch!" the third girl exclaimed, with a half whimsical, half wistful smile.

"I feel as Lina does, that we should reach home as soon as possible. We left a little after daylight and had we not taken this road down into the canyon would have been there an hour ago. Still it has been a wonderful experience! I did not know there was a canyon in this part of the country that we had not already explored!"

Named in honor of Frieda Ralston, who had been the youngest of another group of Ranch Girls some years before, Frieda Colter—more often called Eda—looked and was as unlike in character to the other Frieda as it was possible to imagine.

Slender and small, she had straight dark hair, deeply tanned skin, with a bright crimson in her cheeks and lips. Her eyes instead of being black, as one might have expected from her other coloring, were a light blue such as one sees in old china.

With her lashes down concealing the blue of her eyes, there was something about her that suggested an Indian. She possessed the grace and lightness of carriage of one who has lived always out of doors, and a peculiar litheness as if she were rarely tired.

Jeanette Colter laughed. The second of the girls, she was the moving spirit of their adventures, as Jacqueline Ralston had been in the past. Her hair was a light brown with obstinate waves. She wore it cut short in order that it should be less troublesome. She had gray-blue eyes, a short nose, a clear fresh skin in which the color came and went swiftly in answer to her moods. Her mouth showed a firm line unusual in so young a person.

"Via, you are more apt to be weary than Eda! You do look a little used up, child! Suppose we sit down and rest a while when we come to the edge of the enchanted lake we saw ahead of us a few moments ago. Although it has disappeared, I am sure we shall discover it again as soon as we pass on the other side of this cliff," Jeanette remarked.

Via—or Olivia, to give her her full name—did appear more frail than her sisters. She had fair hair and dark eyes and a gentle manner.

Lina—short for Jacqueline—the oldest of the four girls, was studious and reserved, not giving her affection easily, but deeply devoted to a few persons.

The path along the edge of the cliff became steeper and more difficult to follow.

Sheer embankments of stone hedged them in on three sides. Moving upward toward the far horizon was a single, little-traveled road.

Here, at the bottom of the canyon, like a sapphire set amid diamonds, a little lake appeared in the midst of hollowed-out stones.

Jeanette, who had been in the lead, dropped down first, making a cup of her hand.

"I am sure this water must be fresh and pure. How can it be otherwise in such a place? Suppose we drink first and then let the ponies drink. Afterwards we must eat the few sandwiches we have left and be merry. If we do not see father and our new and reverend stepmother"—Jeanette made a little grimace—"before bedtime, why, the misfortune is four times more her own than ours! It does seem absurd for father to have married some one so much younger than himself! He was her guardian, as we know, years before his marriage to our own mother. Personally, I don't believe in second marriages."

Jeanette's attention was now demanded. She held the reins of the two younger girls' ponies while they satisfied their thirst.

Five minutes later the four girls were seated in characteristic attitudes about the edge of the small lake. The ponies, glad to enjoy a brief rest, stood tethered to the forks of bushes that grew out of what seemed solid rock.

Olivia was leaning her fair head against Jeanette's strong young shoulder, a wistful droop to her figure.

Jeanette sat upright, her white teeth closing firmly on a sandwich. Her gray-blue eyes were looking down into the heart of the water. A strange mixture, Jeanette! She possessed an adventurous outdoor nature and yet now and then was oddly given to dreaming.

More intimate with her father and more his companion in the management of Rainbow Ranch than any one of her sisters, Jeanette resented his marriage more than the others.

"I wish, Jeanette dear, that you would not feel so unhappy over the future," Via murmured. The two girls had special names for each other that only a few outside persons employed. "After all, father is the person to consider! If he thinks that it is best for us to spend this summer together at the ranch making friends with our new mother, it need not last forever! If you wish, you and Lina some day can go away to school. Eda and I will be able to survive, I suppose, although it will be hard."

Although Jeanette was his most devoted friend and companion, three of the four new Ranch Girls believed that Via was their father's favorite child. There was an appealing quality in her gentleness and lack of self-reliance.

Eda, the youngest, was possessed of an odd temperament. She did not seem to care for affection. Never, even when a baby, had she permitted any one to treat her as one ordinarily treats a little girl. Not only had she objected to caresses, she did not wish to be amused. Her own projects and ideas were sufficient entertainment. Hours at a time she would play alone, hiding if need be from the other girls.

They would find her swinging her thin legs from the high rafters of one of the barns, or climbing one of the tall cottonwood trees in the road that led to the old Rainbow Lodge. Here the first four Ranch Girls lived before the discovery of their wealth in Rainbow Creek. After building the new house, Frieda Ralston, now Mrs. Henry Tilford Russell, had christened it Rainbow Castle.

"Really, Jeanette, there is no reason why you should be so prejudiced against our new stepmother. Dear me, what shall we call her? She did not wish to be called Lady Kent after the death of her first husband when she returned to live at our ranch," Lina argued.

"Rainbow Ranch isn't ours, kindly remember. Of course, father now owns a large share of the land, but the rest belongs to our new stepmother and the former Rainbow Ranch Girls. She will never accept the fact that we are the present-day Ranch Girls and I think will always insist upon occupying every position of prominence. As for what name we shall call her by, I intend to say Mrs. Colter. I must either say that, or Jack, and Jack is hardly a respectful title for one's stepmother, whatever one's inward feeling."

Jeanette Colter attempted to speak lightly, yet there was in her voice and manner an intensity of feeling that suggested shoals ahead.

"You have no right to frighten or prejudice the younger girls, whatever you may feel yourself," Lina whispered in an undertone. "I wish I disagreed with you more completely, then I would have more influence. In my heart of hearts I feel almost as uncomfortable as you do," Lina added.

"What a queer mix-up of a family!" said Via. "Father is at least a third older than his new wife, the new wife is a little more than twice as old as we are! There is only one thing we seem to have in common and that is affection for the old Rainbow Ranch! In any case I do hope we may be back at home before the travelers arrive. They were not positive at what hour they would reach home to-night."

Then her expression softened and she rested her cheek on her younger sister's head, which still pressed against her shoulder.

"Oh, Olivia, you will keep the peace, or do your best! You will help now and then, Lina, when you are not too interested in your stupid old books to know what is taking place in the world. Eda and I probably will create the difficulties. If I am sent away from the beloved old ranch sooner than the rest of you, sorry as I shall be to leave you, don't shed tears for me. It may be I shall soon prefer to be away."

"At least there is one thing for which I am truly thankful. We are to be spared for this summer the presence of our new step-brother. He is one of the most objectionable boys I have ever known, and named for father, and father his guardian as well as other things. Oh, dear, it is too mixed-up a family skein for me to unravel!" Jeanette protested.

"Heavenly as this small lake is, lying amid its guard of giant stones, don't you think we should be wending our way upward and onward?" Lina inquired. "Once out of this defile, we shall know the direction we should take for home. Perhaps we shall reach there by dark, or if not there is a moon and a straight road over our own prairies, so what does it matter?"

The first sunset rays had dropped down the western slope of the cliff, lighting it with strange and beautiful colors, mauve and rose and gold.

No sounds could be heard save the four young voices and the restlessness of the four ponies, who were beginning to demand to be taken home.

Suddenly, as if from out of the sky itself, there appeared a small object. Downward, straight as a plummet, it plunged into the surface of the water not far from where the four girls were seated.

The tip had been broken by striking against the hard bed of rock, and yet it was plain that the oddly discovered treasure was an arrow made of some dull metal.

Jeanette held it up for the others to observe. The arrow glistened with an unexpected radiance.

Reaching out for it, Lina, who was slightly near-sighted, held it closer to her eyes.

"The arrow is of silver, I believe! From whence could it have come? Who could have shot a silver arrow down into this hidden ravine? Oh, I presume it belongs to you, Jeanette, as you were first to find it."

"No, the arrow is no more mine than yours or Via's or Eda's. I simply chanced to be nearest the side of the water where it fell."

"Well, I have something to suggest," Via remarked dreamily. "Suppose we take the arrow home and keep it always. When the day comes that one of us does something braver or better than the other, she is to possess the silver arrow until another earns it in the same fashion—or until some one claims it."

"A beautiful suggestion, Via! But come, we must leave this enchanted lake. At least we should manage to arrive at home by bedtime."

A few moments later the four Western ponies with their riders could be seen moving upward along the narrow trail.

UNDER CHANGING SKIES

The moon was shining in a clear sky when Jim Colter, the former manager and one of the owners of the Rainbow Ranch, and his new wife returned home.

They had been married quietly about six weeks before in the presence of the family. Immediately after, they had left the ranch to spend their honeymoon camping in the Canadian Rockies.

To-night they were riding slowly along the familiar road which led from the railroad station to the front gate. This opened into the avenue, thickly bordered with cottonwood trees, forming the approach to the house.

On horseback, the riders were close beside each other, although rarely speaking.

"How many times we have taken this selfsame journey to the old place, Jim! Now once again I come back home, after a fashion a new person and to a new life. First, the headstrong, self-willed Jacqueline Ralston whose childhood and girlhood were spent here! After my marriage to Frank Kent, a bride returning to visit her former home! Then my widowhood with my small son, Jimmie, at the Rainbow Lodge. Now, the crowning honor of my varied career, I return as Mrs. James Colter!"

Jack, who never would be known by any other name to her family and intimate friends, laughed in the half teasing, half serious fashion with which her companion was familiar.

Characteristically she put up her hand to her head to remove her small traveling hat, hanging it on the pommel of her saddle.

"This is much more comfortable and I feel more like myself! Surely we shall see no one to-night except the four new Ranch Girls! I wonder how much they are going to dislike me, Jim, in my new character? I don't fancy I shall be a great success."

In the moonlight the woman who was speaking looked far younger than the middle-aged man who was her husband.

As a matter of fact, Jim Colter had been a grown man when Jacqueline Ralston was a young girl.

In those early days when out of nowhere he appeared to assist her father in the management of the Rainbow Ranch, nothing could have been farther from his imagination, or from her own, than a marriage between them.

Jack's golden-brown hair held the same lovely shades and was arranged in a close coil about her small head. Her skin was more tanned than usual from the six weeks in the mountains, following endless trails by day and sleeping at night under the stars.

Her figure was as slim as ever and she sat her horse with her accustomed ease and grace.

"Oh, I presume the girls will have some welcome arranged for our arrival! As our train was several hours late, I telegraphed ahead. But, child, do spend less time in worrying over your success or failure as a stepmother. We have given too much attention to the question for the past six weeks. The new Ranch Girls are wise enough to know in what luck they are playing! They may not be as grateful to you as I am; that is asking more than one should expect. What troubles me is not your rôle as a stepmother, but as the wife of a man as old as I am. Looking back now, I often wonder how I had the courage for our marriage!"[1]

"Courage! Jim, what a word to use! Yet of course I realize that it must have required courage to marry me! Jean and Olive and Frieda, your three other Ranch Girls of long ago, often have told you how much courage it would require. But on this night of our home-coming I did not expect to be reminded of it by you. By the way, will you please be kind enough not to call me 'child' in public? You did the other day. I can bear the title now and then in private, but in public it reflects on the dignity I'm afraid I never have been able to acquire. Now with four new daughters I really must learn to become a different individual!"

Jack rode nearer. Her horse leaned its head as if to confide in the other horse cantering quietly beside it.

"Jim, I was thinking of something just now, something real," she whispered. "I don't know whether I ought to say it. Remember the marriage ceremony says 'for better, for worse, for rich or for poor, in sickness and in health.' You and I have been through these experiences together as friends. Remember how poor we were in those old days before gold was discovered in Rainbow Creek? There was my long illness and the trouble we had in trying to keep the old ranch from being stolen from us!"[2]

"Never mind all these reminiscences, Jack; it is the future I am interested in at present, not the past," Mr. Colter remonstrated.

"One more promise you must make me. Promise never to interfere in my effort. The girls must either like or dislike me. I must win them myself, or never win at all."

Jack half arose in her saddle, pointing ahead. "See the lights of Rainbow Castle there in the distance!" She was as excited as if the house to which she was returning had not been her home in girlhood.

It was true that she was coming back in a new character, wife of her former guardian and stepmother to his four young daughters.

Across the fields they beheld lights glimmering from a number of windows. They were still half a mile away.

Unconscious of what she was doing, the reins slackened in Jack's hands. Aware of this and with the knowledge that his stable was not far off, unexpectedly her horse broke into a swift canter.

As she felt the swing of his feet under her, the wind from the prairies sweeping across her cheeks and the fragrance of the purple clover in her nostrils, the new Mrs. Colter laughed aloud.

Instead of drawing her reins and pulling up, she touched her horse lightly with her whip and sped more swiftly ahead.

At the same instant there was a rushing and a patter of many hoofs across a nearby field.

Their manes flying, graceful and beautiful in the moonlight, their slender noses sniffing with curiosity and pleasure, half a dozen mares followed by their young colts raced close beside the rider.

He had no fear. No one was more at home on horseback than the girl he had taught to ride so many years before. She was now his wife.

To-night as her horse stopped she had a sudden feeling of oppression. She did not desire to go indoors. Often she had felt this after a long ride. All her life she had loved the outdoor world more than the four sides of a house.

To-night she had another reason. She was dreading to meet the young girls who were her stepdaughters.

She had known them before in the year she had spent with her son, Jimmie, at the Rainbow Lodge. Yet there had been no intimacy between them. She was not particularly sympathetic with young girls and had been busy with her own affairs. They had been friendly, but she never had tried to understand their different dispositions.

At the time her own sister, Frieda, who was now Mrs. Henry Tilford Russell, had been living at the big house with her husband and little girl. Jean, her cousin and a former Ranch Girl, had kept house at Rainbow Castle for Jim Colter and his motherless daughters.

Frieda and Jean not only understood the new Ranch Girls better than she did, but were more admired and loved by them.

Even then Jack realized that they did not enjoy her friendship with their father, which had ended with their marriage.

If the sound of their arrival was heard inside the big house, no one came to the front door to open it for the home-comers.

One of them was curled up on a long sofa, a book in her hand. The leaves had fallen together, as if she were asleep.

Another figure, the smallest of all, was almost lost in an immense upholstered blue chair. Her black hair made a contrasting spot of color against the blue; her eyes were closed and the little figure was drooping with weariness. Her cheeks were a deep rose.

Seated beside each other on low stools close together were two other girls, who slowly arose at Jack's entrance.

Jeanette's face was pale and her lips closed firmly together. Her gray-blue eyes looked darker, her uplifted nose more mutinous.

Her father had delayed his entrance, thinking it might be easier for them all if his welcome came later.

"I am sorry we did not hear you arrive. You must have come on horseback. We thought the car was to be sent for you. We have been riding ourselves all day and got in very late. Lina and Eda, as you see, are asleep."

She too shook hands. The new stepmother dared not ask that any one of the three girls welcome her more warmly.

She was leaning over to kiss the youngest of the four girls, when Eda slipped from her. With a swift movement of intense affection she flung her arms about her father.

The next the new stepmother found herself standing alone while the four new Ranch Girls were rejoicing over him.

THE DAWN

All night Jeanette had been unable to sleep more than half an hour at a time. Never in her life before could she recall such an experience.

Tired after their long excursion and the finding of the silver arrow, the excitement of meeting her father and the new stepmother, she had expected to fall into a sound slumber as soon as her head touched the pillow.

Her room, which she occupied alone, was at the back of the big house. The view showed the carefully tended kitchen garden, the stables at some distance away, and beyond the long sweep of their own fields. One could catch a dim outline of a distant rim of hills.

The window was open. Thrusting out her head, Jeanette drew in a deep breath of the sweet morning air.

Yawning, she glanced toward her bed and then outside again. Which called to her most? She was sleepy and yet felt she would be unable to sleep.

A ride before breakfast perhaps would put her in a better frame of mind to meet the new day. She dressed quickly in an old riding suit of blue corduroy.

Outside her window there was a long tangle of heavy vines supported by a lattice and twisting about the posts of the porch.

Wishing no one in the house to know of her departure, Jeanette crawled out of her window and clambered carefully down to the porch railing. This was not her first descent. By her own efforts the vines had been arranged to form a kind of natural stepladder.

Outdoors she hurried off to the stables. Here she saddled one of the ranch ponies. Her own had been too wearied by the long journey the day before.

She was about to ride away when she observed some one else slipping out of the house alone. She looked not a great deal older at this distance than Lina.

Jeanette recognized that she was the one person she did not wish to meet and talk with at the present time.

On ascending from the ravine the day before the four new Ranch Girls had found themselves not so great a distance from home as they feared. Near the ranch was an opening into the ravine which must for years have been closed with a thick tangle of underbrush. Of late some one had thrust the way through.

If she were pursued, Jeanette's idea was to hide behind the shrubs and thick sagebushes until she could safely emerge from shelter.

Instead of concealing herself, she rode on a mile or so more. She planned to be back in time for breakfast.

The morning was too lovely to waste now that she had given up the hope of sleep.

Overhead the western larks were soaring and singing. The early spring wild flowers had gone, but the summer hedges of wild roses were in full bloom.

A few trees dotted the landscape, carefully planted and tended by the ranchmen. The pungent odor of the eucalyptus tree, an occasional scrub pine and tall bushes of sage alone broke Jeanette's view of the country.

Jeanette looked quickly down. Lying on the ground in a comfortable relaxed position was the figure of a boy about fifteen years old.

"Your horse nearly ran over me! Why, you might have killed me!" he protested angrily.

Without intending to be disagreeable, Jeanette smiled. The following instant she slid off her horse.

"I am sorry to have alarmed you. Please explain to me why you are lying here in one of our fields asleep at this hour of the morning? I don't think we have seen each other before. Perhaps you are visiting one of our neighbors?"

This time she laughed aloud. Visitor or no visitor, why was he not in bed if he wished to sleep?

Seated in as disconsolate an attitude and wearing as aggrieved an expression as if he had been a child, Jeanette beheld a tall, thin boy with light hair curling close about a high, blue-veined forehead. He had blue eyes, a well-cut nose. It was his mouth, Jeanette decided, which gave him the infantile appearance. The lips were full and pouting as a spoiled girl's.

"I am glad you consider me amusing," he replied, a little sullenly. "I am not sure whether I am a visitor, or whether I have to live for some time in this plagued western country. I'd almost rather be dead than stay here many months. There is nothing to see, nothing to do. I feel as if I were a thousand miles from anywhere."

The sun had risen and was shining in the full golden glory of early summer morning. The fields planted in alfalfa or in grains were purple and green, the rolling prairies were velvet swards, the edges of the desert lines of silver.

Awake and about the business of their day were droves of sheep and cattle. Not far away young colts were frisking about their mothers.

On this occasion Jean showed no indication of laughter. Instead she frowned, a straight line appearing between her dark eyebrows.

"What an extraordinarily stupid and rude thing to say! Do get up off the ground, you look so absurd. Isn't that your pony grazing over there? I had not noticed before. By the time you ride back to your friends you surely will wish your breakfast. I only hope you are not so rude to them about their part of the country as you have been to me. I adore the West and everything about our ranch lands. Good-by, I must be off toward home."

Surprised and angered, she swung around. She discovered that her new acquaintance had risen to his feet and was blushing hotly.

"I beg your pardon, I did not intend being rude. Please do not go away at once. I don't suppose you have ever known what it means to be desperately homesick, so homesick it makes one actually ill. That is the way I feel at present.

"My home is in New York. I have never been anywhere else, except once to Europe and to our summer place on Long Island. My father is dead and I am the only child. Before I have been with my mother always.

"This summer for some strange reason she decided to go to Europe and not to take me with her. She said I was growing older and needed to become more manly. As my health has not been good the doctor advised I be sent West to live outdoors and ride and fish and hunt. I hate every outdoor sport.

"I am staying with Mr. Stevens—Peter Stevens. He is a lawyer and an old friend of my father's. They went to school together, I believe, so dad made him my guardian. I don't like him, either. If he had not come East on a visit and said I was growing up a mollycoddle, I should not have played in such poor luck as to be cast out here to live in the desert! Why, there isn't a theater, or a shop, or a human being worth looking at.—Oh, I say, I do beg your pardon honestly this time. Won't you have some candy?"

The boy put his hand into his pocket and drew forth a small box of French chocolates.

"No, thank you, no candy at this hour of the morning. I confess I love it far too much at other times. Oh, I'll tell you my name gladly enough. It is Jeanette Colter. This is our ranch, the Rainbow Ranch. Mr. Stevens is a friend of my father's and my new stepmother's."

Unconsciously the girl's expression changed to one only a little less gloomy than her companion's had been a short time before.

"Have you a stepmother? Is she new or have you had her some time? I tell you I never mean my mother to marry again. I have told her any number of times how I should hate it. She has promised never to marry without my consent—and that she will never receive."

"You strike me as being extremely selfish," Jeanette contemplated saying and then desisted. After all, her new companion was only expressing the sentiment she felt. Her wishes had not been consulted.

"You have not told me your name," she remarked more amiably than she so far had spoken.

"Cecil Perry. You won't like it. Mother prefers that people pronounce 'Cecil' in the English fashion."

"Oh, very well; I never heard the English pronunciation before. Good-by once more, Mr. Cecil Perry. I would ask you to tell Mr. Stevens to bring you to call on my father and sisters and me, and oh, yes, on my stepmother as well, if you did not find everybody in Wyoming so tiresome."

"I told you I was sorry. I don't understand why you pretend to be an angelic character. One can guess from seeing you that you often say and do the wrong thing. You have a lot of temper. If you were homesick in New York I should not be half so disagreeable to you."

Jeanette was annoyed by the truth in the strange boy's speech. She was also pleased that he was possessed of more spirit than she had suspected.

"Why not ride home to breakfast with me instead of waiting to have Mr. Stevens bring you? I shall be delighted not to have our breakfast this morning a strictly family affair."

AT BREAKFAST

When Jack, the present Mrs. Jim Colter, came out of the house a few moments after the younger girl, she was not aware of Jeanette's departure.

In fact, Jack distinctly recalled the days when, as one of the original Rainbow Ranch Girls, she had made just such early-morning escapes from her family and the problems that troubled her.

Already she was aware that among the four new Ranch Girls, Jeanette would probably be her chief problem, if she were to succeed in her determination to make friends.

Her husband had assured her otherwise. Jeanette always appeared easy enough to manage, provided one did not interfere with her tastes too seriously. She was boyish and frank and fond of the outdoors, a little as he recalled Jack herself to have been. If she were wilful now and then, she was seldom sullen. Always she was quick to forget an unpleasantness.

Jack had not the same impression. Not knowing Jeanette intimately, yet the year she had spent at Rainbow Lodge had afforded her a better opportunity for observing Jeanette than any one of the other girls.

Rarely ever with any degree of amiability, Jeanette and her own son, Jimmie, had spent a good many hours together. If they did not especially like each other, they had the same interests.

Jeanette was what old-fashioned persons once called a tomboy. She loved to ride and climb, fish and shoot, often excelling Jimmie, who was younger.

Jeanette had never been particularly sweet-tempered with Jimmie. Wanting her own way, she was apt to be difficult when opposed. From the first Jack had seen that Jeanette resented the boy's affection for his guardian, who was now his stepfather. More she resented her father's devotion to the only boy in the family.

If she could be jealous of this relation, how much greater her resentment against a stepmother, with such a strong claim upon her father.

Her husband had insisted that Eda, the youngest of the four girls, might be a trial. He never had understood her. A little more than a baby at her mother's death, she had been a shy, strange little person, thinking her own thoughts and living her own life with little regard to any one else.

Yet the thought of Eda did not trouble the new stepmother. Eda was young, was devoted to her older sister, and there was time enough to watch her character unfold.

Jack had a shrewd idea that Jeanette had her own way with her sisters more than any of them realized. Lina was studious and calm in temperament. Her interests were more in books than in the outside world. She seemed to love peace and quiet in order to pursue her own tastes. She would be inclined to surrender to Jeanette on some occasions because she was indifferent, on others to avoid argument.

Olivia, who was the gentlest of the four girls, with a wistful, imaginative quality, was under the spell of her next older sister's more active personality.

Without walking any distance from the house, Jack watched Jeanette ride away. She sat her pony fairly well, but more carelessly than Jack herself approved of.

She had no idea of riding before breakfast. She had come outdoors to walk for an hour about the place and watch its awakening.

She went first to the Rainbow Creek, where gold had first been discovered. There was little work going on at the mine at present.

Ralph Merritt, who had married Jean, her cousin, had accepted an engineering position farther West.

Jack regretted the fact that no one of the three other original Rainbow Ranch Girls would be at the old ranch during the present summer. She and her husband had decided this would be wisest. The others had agreed.

Frieda's husband, Professor Russell, having completed his scientific experiment, did not desire to remain longer at the ranch, now that Peace, their little girl, was in better health.

Olive and her husband, Captain Bryan MacDonnell, had returned to England, taking Jacqueline's own son, Jimmie Kent, to visit his father's people.

Returning to the house, Jack found her husband dressed and outdoors searching for her.

"I thought perhaps you might have run away, Mrs. Colter; you know you have in times past."

"Never really run away, Jim, only for a few hours, or at most a day at a time. Now that I have grown elderly I suppose I should give up even such short breaks for liberty. If I ever do again, please remember that I shall always come back to you. What are you intending to do before breakfast?"

Jack made no mention of having seen Jeanette ride off a half hour before, not knowing whether it would meet her father's approval.

"I'm off to the ranch house to see the men before they start to work for the day. If I wait until after breakfast they will have gone. I shall ride out after them later."

"Glad to be at home and at work, Jim? A honeymoon is hard on a man, isn't it? No, I won't go with you. I am going into the kitchen for coffee. I want to be here when the girls come downstairs and to preside properly at the breakfast table the first morning of our home-coming. Don't be late."

She was aware that many persons felt their marriage a mistake. Devoted as they were to their guardian, Jean and Olive, the two former Ranch Girls, had hesitated. Only Frieda, who so rarely approved of anything her older sister thought or did, had been openly pleased with Jack's marriage to their former guardian.

"Jim has always been the one person who could make Jack do what she should," Frieda had argued in a tone of relief, as though her own responsibility were partly lifted.

Entering the room for breakfast some little time later, Jack wore a cream-colored muslin dress, with brown shoes and stockings and a brown satin belt. She had a lace kerchief about her throat, which seemed to give her a properly domestic and elderly appearance.

Three of the four new Ranch Girls were waiting and appearing more friendly than the evening before.

Evidently they too had put on especially pretty morning dresses in honor of the occasion.

Jeanette was not present. Either she had failed to return, or else did not wish to come to breakfast until it was actually announced.

"Jeanette has disappeared. I hope you won't think she is rude if she does not get back in time for breakfast. She really should have known better than to be away the first morning of your and father's return," Lina apologized.

Eda, in a pink starched frock, with her black hair in a stiff halo about her face, looked like a slim Princess in a fairy tale. She condescendingly allowed herself to be kissed.

Lina only shook hands, but Olivia put up her lips in a sweet and natural fashion which gave her new stepmother a sensation of satisfaction and relief.

Seeing her father enter at the same moment, she moved swiftly toward him and heard him whisper:

"If everybody were like you, Via, this would be a lovelier world. Where is Jeanette?"

When her absence was explained, he appeared more annoyed than the other girls were accustomed to seeing him.

As he spoke steps were heard approaching and Jeanette entered the room with an unexpected companion, a tall, fair boy.

The truth was that Jeanette had raced across the fields in order to be at home at this moment, unmindful of the fact that her companion knew little of riding and found it extremely difficult not to be left behind.

"I have discovered a new neighbor, father," said Jeanette, introducing the newcomer first to him and ignoring the presence of her new stepmother.

"Is this Mrs. Colter? I know you cannot remember me, but I met you several years ago. How glad I am to see some one I have met before!"

A LAWN PARTY

There were many persons in the neighborhood of the Rainbow Ranch who were friends of Mr. and Mrs. Colter.

After many years in the community Mr. Colter, who originally had taken slight interest in matters outside his own ranch, had become one of the most influential men in the western part of the state.

From her girlhood Jacqueline Ralston had excited keen attention. The oldest of the former Ranch Girls, she had been famous for her daring and independence. A serious illness, after which it was thought she would never ride or walk again, stirred pity and affection. Then followed her recovery and marriage to the young Englishman, Frank Kent, who afterwards inherited the title.

On the death of her husband, still a young woman, Lady Kent had returned to the old ranch. Here she had laid aside her title and devoted herself to politics. Running for Congress, she had failed to be elected and a few months later married her former guardian.

Two weeks following their honeymoon it was Mr. Colter's idea, not his wife's or daughters', that they give a large, informal reception to their friends.

One evening on the wide circular veranda at the left of the house and opening out of the dining-room, the family was seated at dinner.

"Don't you think we should give an entertainment of some kind to our neighbors?" Mr. Colter remarked unexpectedly.

Lina's glance at her father, if not enthusiastic over the proposal (she was a little shy of strangers), expressed approval.

Not that she objected to a party; she was fonder of society than any one of her sisters. She knew, however, that her father disliked every possible form of social entertainment and in her own mother's day rarely ever went anywhere outside their own home.

"I don't wonder at your surprise, Jack. I never have been a society man in the past, have I? I shall be out of place at present beside my wife and daughters. Still I don't wish our friends to believe that I shut you up here away from them. I have no right to be so selfish. I happen to remember that you were a very popular character in Wyoming before our marriage."

"So popular a person, Jim, that I was defeated in my election to Congress. I always have been glad Peter Stevens was chosen in my place. I am anxious to see him again and glad he is at home for the summer. He must recently have bought a ranch near ours."

"When Stevens resigned from his law practice he decided to spend the time he was not in Washington in the country. A cranky old bachelor, he is pretty sure to have his hands full making a Westerner out of the boy Jeanette introduced to us."

He was not enthusiastic over their neighbor, Peter Stevens, who had been one of his wife's admirers before their marriage.

"Oh, Cecil is all right if the girls will help him. He is in the wrong environment and I have learned to be sympathetic with people living under new conditions. I was uncomfortable when I first went to live in England.

"About our party? Girls, you must do all you can to assist me. I never have been the successful hostess of our family. Aunt Jean and Aunt Frieda were both more gifted, Olive was shy. I was always supposed to be too frank, a graceful fashion of saying I said and did the wrong thing."

Jack had finished dinner, which was a simple, early meal that the family shared.

The sun had gone down, but the afterglow was coloring the landscape. The radiance spread over the big veranda filled with graceful wicker furniture. A rose glow lay upon the table and the faces surrounding it.

There had been no special friction during the past two weeks, so that the new stepmother was beginning to feel her task might not be so difficult as she anticipated.

If the four girls still displayed no active liking for her, they did not seem to dislike her. Jeanette's manner showed a good deal of repression.

"Surely one of you new Ranch Girls must possess the social gift. Whom must I depend upon? In a few years you will be grown and entering more formal society, but before then I hope I shall learn to be a proper chaperon."

"You need not trouble about me. I cannot understand father's sudden change of attitude. Never has he agreed that we give a party before, although I have often asked for the privilege.

"I hope, father, you will allow me to go East to school as soon as school opens. I have been thinking a good deal of this lately. If you ever have time for me again I should like to talk it over with you. I have an idea I want to study something to make my own living. You already have a large family and our share of the Rainbow Ranch is not a large one."

"Jeanette, this is not the time or place for such a discussion." In her father's voice there was a tone Jeanette had never heard before, which frightened and startled her. She had desired to vex him, not to make him seriously angry. Actually this had not occurred to her as a possibility. It was true, however, that they had not spent an hour together alone since his return from Canada.

Two or three times her father had invited her to ride to some distant point of the ranch with him, when he was on a tour of inspection. However, as her stepmother rode with him nearly every day Jeanette had preferred to decline on the few occasions when she was asked to play the part of a substitute.

At this moment Jeanette turned to leave the veranda. She was conscious of the unpleasant atmosphere one member of a family can always precipitate upon the other innocent members.

Jeanette could not know that the only person who had any real sympathy with her at present was the stepmother she disliked.

In times past when she was a girl Jack recalled having excited her husband's anger just as his daughter was doing at this time. She did not enjoy the reminiscence.

"I think I am still able to support my family, Jeanette. If you care to go East to school in the fall, possibly you may do as you wish. In the last two weeks you scarcely have made your presence at home so agreeable we cannot live without you."

She had been ruder than an outsider could appreciate. A portion of the Rainbow Ranch belonged to her new stepmother. The house in which they were living had been built and paid for by the money discovered in Rainbow Creek. The house had been the property of the four original Ranch Girls.

Her father and mother had lived in it, because the former Ranch Girls had married and moved away.

The new Ranch Girls understood that their present home was too large and too handsome for their father's income and position. He accepted its use as a portion of the salary he received as manager of the large estate, which was now partly his own.

Jeanette understood that her stepmother's additional income from her former husband made her a wealthy woman. Concerning this fact her own father was sensitive. Now and then it was his impression that he had accepted more from his wife than he was able to give.

Upstairs in her room with the door locked Jeanette's cheeks burned. Like other persons in anger, she had said more than she intended and hurt the person she had not meant to injure. Her desire had been to arouse her stepmother's, not her father's resentment. But not once since her arrival had Jeanette been able to accomplish this.

All her girlhood Jacqueline Ralston had been famous for her sweet temper; now that she was older and had passed through many trying experiences, her sweetness and generosity of nature had deepened. If Jeanette Colter were to succeed in seriously annoying her, she must reveal some worse fault than a childish impulse to make scenes.

Now, as Jeanette sat curled up in her favorite position on a window seat, the fact that her stepmother had given her no cause for disliking her made her resentment keener.

One afternoon a week later the informal reception at the Rainbow Ranch took place.

Outside on the front lawn Lina and Jeanette were entertaining their younger friends.

Apparently Jeanette was enjoying herself more than any one else. Lina was presiding at a heavily loaded tea table with Olivia assisting, while Jeanette was doing the greater part of the talking.

"Yes, it was curious, was it not, our finding a silver arrow in such an odd fashion. Actually it might have been shot from the sky from a winged chariot or whatever fanciful thing one may choose to imagine.

"The little lake at the bottom of the ravine is like an enchanted spot. I feel as if Lina, Via, Eda and I had taken part in a fairy story," Jeanette narrated.

A few feet from the tea table she was seated on the grass of the carefully tended front lawn before the big house. Grouped about her were half a dozen boys and girls near her age.

"May we see the famous arrow? It is hard to believe such a thing could have occurred," Eric Lawton asked. Living on an adjoining ranch, he and Jeanette Colter were especial friends.

"Would you really like to see it? I have always wanted to show the arrow to people outside the family and ask their theory from whence it could have come. We have our own pet ideas, none very sensible."

Slipping a small key from a chain she wore, Jeanette extended it toward her sister.

"You know where the arrow is securely hidden away, Via. Won't you be good enough to find it and bring it to us here? Lina, come and tell us the legend of the 'Silver Arrow' that you read the other day."

The oldest of the new quartette of Rainbow Ranch Girls arose and dropped down on the ground beside the others.

Cecil Perry, who had been Jeanette's original discovery, crossed over and took a seat beside her.

He and Lina had become intimate friends, while with Jeanette there was only an armed truce breaking into frequent warfare.

"Jeanette talks as if I casually picked up a book and there ran across a legend of a 'Silver Arrow.' The truth is I searched diligently for days. Whether or not it is true we cannot be certain, but the arrow we discovered seems to be an ancient one, which makes it more than ever a mystery."

"Well, do go on with your story, Lina; we are most impatient to hear," Martha Putnam, one of Lina's girl friends, expostulated.

Lina, who was accustomed to speaking slowly and deliberately, refused to be hurried.

"Please don't think I associate this story with our arrow. I only tell it to you for what it is worth. In any case it is an interesting tale, for one reason because the arrowheads of the American Indians were sometimes tipped with bronze or brass, never with silver. We know they had learned the uses of the first two metals before they were acquainted with the third."

Eda, who had been wandering around on the outskirts of the company, too shy to associate with them, at her sister's words came and slipped her hand inside a young man's. He was John Marshall, a number of years older than his present companions.

"Long ago," Lina began in the approved story-telling fashion, "we know there was a race living in our western country who were possessed of far greater knowledge than our American Indians. They are supposed to have dwelt in ancient cities long since buried beneath the earth, to have learned the arts of weaving and dyeing, the use of bronze and copper and gold and silver.

"I am talking as if I were an extract from a page of American history. This is my background for the legend of the 'Silver Arrow.'

"Once upon a time an Indian boy, known to his companions as 'White Heart,' because of his gentleness and kindness, which they believed cowardice, went down into one of the deepest of the canyons to pray until the coming of dawn.

"At dawn he was to come forth from the canyon and join a group of Indian lads. Before the old chief, who lay dying, they were to appear and from the number the new chief would be chosen.

"During his long vigil White Heart prayed that the honor should not fall upon him. He had little reason to believe this possible, only a great fear. To be chief of his tribe meant that he must lead the warriors to battle. He must kill and urge others to destroy. If needs be he must lay waste other Indian villages and bear off the women and girls into captivity. And White Heart knew that for him to kill was impossible. The thought of suffering filled him with pity and tenderness. He grew faint and ill before the sight of blood. What availed him that he could run more swiftly, swim more strongly, shoot straighter to the center of a target, if he remained a coward both in war and peace?

"Many times he had been called a woman by his boy companions, but this a number of the Indian maidens resented. They felt no such weakness as White Heart revealed.

"'Better that I should never come forth from the depth of the canyon, rather than face the future,' White Heart murmured aloud more than once during the long night. He could not pray to be delivered from his weakness of character, as he had no desire to change, to grow hard of heart, to shed blood and create sorrow.

"The canyon was filled with a heavy mist. Dim figures of long-dead warriors floated past his view. They were clothed with light, but not one of them held a sword, an arrow or a spear.

"Perhaps I am boring you? I never would have agreed to tell the tale of the 'Silver Arrow' had I realized I would take so long."

"You must not stop at the instant of suspense," John Marshall urged above the heads of the others.

The ejaculations from the rest of the audience proved that they were in accord with him.

"At daylight White Heart awakened. His resolve was steadfast. He would return to his people and confess that he had no wish to follow the law of his tribe. If, in the drawing of lots, the choice fell to him, he would not be chief. In any case he must become an outcast, following on the outskirts of his brother warriors as they went forth to battle, striving to heal their wounds.

"Rested and at peace, White Heart started to ascend the narrow trail that led from the heart of the canyon. He had gone but a few steps when a girl appeared before him. She was fairer than the girls of his own race, her long, light-brown hair fell to her shoulders and in her hand she carried an arrow, which she offered to White Heart.

"Gazing upon the arrow, he found it to be made of a shining metal with which he was unfamiliar.

"'The Silver Arrow represents wisdom and love. They are the true courage. Thy enemies shall not prevail against them.'

"The figure vanished. White Heart, the Silver Arrow in his clasp, climbed the hill and made his way to the tents of his people.

"There when the young warriors assembled after their long vigils White Heart was chosen chief.

"He kept the Arrow of Silver and afterwards became renowned for his wisdom and kindness. Other tribes sought alliance with his tribe until a great valley became filled with an industrious and peace-loving community. The Silver Arrow passed from one generation to the other."

"There is so much of the story I cannot tell you all. Strange that our silver arrow should have come into our possession in almost as mysterious a fashion!"

"Who knows but that I shot the silver arrow down into the canyon, or some other equally uninteresting person," Cecil Perry exclaimed. "We had a target on our place in Long Island and mother and her friends used to amuse themselves with bows and arrows. You did not know, Jeanette, that I can occasionally hit a target, if I am no good at other sports."

Jeanette paid no attention. She did not like the young fellow, and was apt to be slightly disdainful of persons whom she did not admire.

"Lina has not told you what I think is especially interesting concerning our silver arrow. The four of us saw it falling through the air. As it neared the ground instinctively we held our breath. I don't believe any one of us dreamed of being hurt. The arrow plunged into the water at the very edge near where I was seated, so that I drew it forth without difficulty. Afterwards the other girls were generous enough to say I had the right to own it. A moment later we made another decision. I cannot remember who suggested the idea, but at the end of a year our silver arrow is to be bestowed on the one of us who does the most courageous act."

"I don't see why we should think only of ourselves! Lina, if all of you agree, suppose we form a society, or a Club of the Silver Arrow. Do any of you wish to join? We could ask a number of older persons to judge to whom the arrow should be awarded.

"Cecil, perhaps you are like the young Indian, White Heart. You believe in wisdom and kindness, rather than in physical courage."

There was a little barbed arrow, not of silver, but of cruelty, in Jeanette Colter's speech. An instant later she regretted the unkindness. From the night of her stepmother's arrival at the Rainbow Ranch, Jeanette had felt an unaccustomed hardness and irritability.

A number of times since his arrival in the neighborhood Cecil Perry had showed himself lacking in ordinary physical courage. He was afraid of horses, of a sudden rush of cattle across the open country, of an unfriendly dog, and of half a dozen other small timidities he made no secret.

No one else spoke at this moment because Via was seen approaching, walking down the avenue from the house and holding the Silver Arrow in her outstretched hand.

THE LAW OF AVERAGES

As Olivia paused not far away for a moment, she made a charming picture. She was wearing a white dress, and overhead the light filtered on her through the gray-green foliage of the tall cottonwood trees.

Embarrassed and excited by the fact that so many pairs of eyes were fastened upon her, a soft wave of color flooded her cheeks.

Observing her sister, Jeanette experienced a mingled emotion of affection and envy. Small wonder that Olivia was a favorite with everybody, with her father, with her new stepmother and her own favorite sister! Gentleness was always attractive. Her own sarcastic speech to Cecil Perry a few moments before had not injured him, but reflected upon her.

At this instant she was astonished to see Cecil spring up from his seat on the ground and make a sudden plunge forward. The following moment he had thrown his arms about the young girl in the pathway, dragging her a few feet from the spot where she had been standing. To the spectators a heavy branch of the cottonwood tree appeared to strike the ground at the same instant.

Cecil staggered and went down on his knees, while Olivia remained untouched. The limb of the tree had fallen athwart his shoulder.

"I am not hurt. I only toppled over from sheer awkwardness," he explained to John Marshall and Eric Lawton, who rushed forward to his assistance.

"How did you know what was about to happen, Perry?" John Marshall inquired. Older than the others, he felt that he should have been first to the rescue.

"Oh, I don't know. I happened to be looking up toward the top of the tree at the moment Olivia paused underneath. I was not thinking," Cecil grinned, "I don't often think, I am not equal to it; but I saw that a big limb of the tree had broken directly away from the trunk and was being held in place by another branch. I was about taking that in, when a stray breeze came along above our heads and the broken branch wobbled. Afterwards I made a plunge for Olivia."

"I hope I did not frighten you and that you are not hurt. Between us I trust the silver arrow is safe."

"The arrow is safe and so am I, but you did frighten me, I confess. How was I to guess why you sprang at me in that unexpected fashion?"

The young girl came closer and added in an undertone: "You are hurt, I am sure, but I understand you prefer the others not to know. In a few moments suppose we go back to the house together and let me tell father."

Cecil shook his head; nevertheless, he dropped quickly back into his place beside Lina, slightly paler from his recent exertion.

"The silver arrow may now be seen in fact as well as told in fiction," he declared. "Go ahead, let us forget the brief interruption and discuss Jeanette's idea of a club of the Silver Arrow which is to test one's courage."

He lay down, extending himself full length on the grass while the arrow was being passed from one guest to the other, as if he had no further interest in the subject. Jeanette's previous remark certainly shut him out from joining any society that she and her friends might have in mind.

Cecil had been a good deal spoiled, but these past few weeks in the Far West were making him aware of the fact.

Lonely and not knowing how to entertain himself in the country, he had spent a large portion of his time at the Rainbow Ranch.

His host and guardian, Peter Stevens, was away from home several days out of each week. He expressed the wish that Cecil should see as much of the Colter family as possible without boring them. For Mrs. Colter and her husband he felt a genuine admiration. He also believed the new Ranch Girls would teach Cecil many of the things he should have learned before.

A boyish admiration for Mrs. Colter was in itself an inspiration. He never had known a woman who could do so many things brilliantly well and remain unspoiled. She was acknowledged to be one of the finest horsewomen in the State of Wyoming, where every woman and girl rode well. She had traveled and occupied an important social position in England and yet was simplicity itself. She actually had run for Congress against his own guardian, and oftentimes since his election Mr. Stevens had insisted that Mrs. Colter would have made the better representative of the state that had first granted the suffrage to women.

Lina and Olivia Colter, Cecil liked extremely well. If Olivia had been older he would have preferred her for his companion, as he was not so interested in books and study as the oldest of the Colter girls wished him to be.

Eda was too young and too shy with strangers to make any special impression upon him, save that she fascinated him by her odd beauty and grace.

Jeanette Colter he did not like, and yet in a way she entertained him more than her sisters.

Jeanette appeared wilful and self-centered, with no strong affection for any one save herself. She ordinarily went her own way without consideration for any one else and without interference. If her father ever objected to what she said or did, Cecil had no knowledge of it.

He was thinking of Jeanette as he lay outstretched on the grass, his shoulder aching from the bruise he had just received, and spiritually wounded by her unkind speech.

She wore a less self-confident expression than usual. Her gray-blue eyes were troubled, her lips less firm.

"I am sorry, Cecil, I was rude and unfair to you. If you had no physical courage you would not have been so quick to save Via from being hurt at some danger to yourself."

Jeanette's tones were sufficiently loud to be heard by the entire group. Blushing furiously over his fair skin until the color mounted to the roots of his hair, Cecil got quickly to his feet, notwithstanding the pain his sudden movement induced.

He was more annoyed with Jeanette at present than he had been from her original speech. She was by her apology again calling the attention of the others to him. If she had any understanding of a fellow she would know he would hate the situation.

"Don't talk so loud, Jeanette, and for goodness sake don't speak of my being in danger if the branch of a tree happened to fall on me. I'm not such a weakling as all that! Olivia is a little girl and might have been hurt."

Cecil spoke in a low voice and yet Jeanette was angry. She had brought herself to apologize to him as an act of duty, and assuredly her apology was not being received in a spirit that made the effort worth while.

She and Cecil were both relieved by observing a number of older people leaving the house. Some of them were moving in their direction, the others were on their way home.

"You will stay and have a late supper with us?" Mrs. Colter invited, seating herself in Lina's vacated chair by the tea table and regarding the few remaining visitors. "I cannot promise you much of a feast, only what is left in the way of sandwiches and ices. But do stay. It is always dull after a party when all one's friends go away at the same time."

"No, thank you, I must be off in a few moments. I only waited until you were free in order to ask you a question. I hope you won't be down on me for the suggestion, Mr. Colter."

He was regretting his wife's invitation to their guests to remain longer. For his own part he had had enough of visitors for the day and wished to persuade her to take a long horseback ride with him before bedtime. If John Marshall, who was older, would soon be off, the younger people could be left to amuse themselves.

"I wanted to tell you that we are going to undertake a field-day celebration in our immediate neighborhood. One of our plans is to have riding contests among the best women riders in the state. I have been insisting that Mrs. Colter has no equal. Would you be willing to ride? Any number of your friends will take part."

"Of course I'll ride with pleasure if my husband is willing. There is no entertainment in life I enjoy so much." She glanced toward her husband. "What shall I answer John Marshall, Jim? Will you consent?"

Mr. Colter hesitated. "Suppose we wait and talk the matter over. If you do enter the contest, Jack, you must win for the honor of the old Rainbow Ranch."

"Yes, and for the honor of my first riding teacher who is now my husband. Oh, of course I had ridden almost as soon as I could walk, but no one had ever told me how to ride properly until you came to the ranch."

"I'm betting on Mrs. Colter!" Cecil Perry exclaimed, his expression changing from chagrin to enthusiasm.

"Mr. Marshall, is the racing contest to be open to girls as well as to women?" she inquired.

"Yes, I think so," the young man answered, smiling at her. He liked Jeanette's daring spirit.

"Jeanette, you cannot. You ride pretty well for a girl, I presume, but you are not in it with Mrs. Colter," Cecil protested.

"You might kindly attend to your own affairs," was Jeanette's reply. She had forgotten that she was speaking to a guest.

Lina Colter shook her head, not approving her stepmother's enthusiasm over John Marshall's proposal, and even less Jeanette's.

"Cecil is right, Jeanette, whether you like what he said or not," Lina expostulated. "I am sure father will never consent."

"Consent to what?" Mr. Colter's voice inquired, having overheard Lina's final remark.

Jeanette came and stood beside the table close to her father, stepmother and their guest, John Marshall.

"Lina is absurd, father! I wish to enter the riding contest. If you are willing to have your wife attempt it you will not object to your daughter making herself equally conspicuous. You heard Mr. Marshall say my age or lack of age need not be a barrier."

Jeanette spoke gayly, yet there may have been a slightly jealous tone in her voice.

"Why, certainly not, Jeanette," he answered finally. "You are not only too young, you are not a sufficiently skillful horsewoman. Because you chance to ride better than the other girls you must not have too great an opinion of your own ability. The truth is, dear, you have no idea of the skill necessary for riding with the best horsewomen in the State of Wyoming."

"You forget I have had the privilege of beholding my stepmother ride. I believe it is your opinion that no one rides any better, if as well. But if I choose to differ with you I do not see why I cannot have the privilege. Besides, what harm can there be in my entering the riding match even if I am sure not to win?"

Mr. Colter did not reply for a moment and in the interval his wife laid her hand on his arm.

"Suppose we discuss this whole question later? I am sure if I were in her place I should feel as she does that age, or youth, should be no barrier."

"Perhaps we can practice riding together, Jeanette, before the great contest takes place. If there is anything I know I should be delighted to teach you."

An hour later Mr. and Mrs. Colter were riding together in one of their own fields. The twilight was deepening.

"For my sake, Jim, let Jeanette make the effort to ride if you are willing to allow me, otherwise she will never forgive me. I do not believe there is any special danger, or reason against it, as I can teach her a great deal in the next few weeks."

"Jack, before we were married I seemed able to manage you now and then, but since our marriage I appear to be wax in your hands. Have your own way once more, you and Jeanette."

PREPARATION

The next few weeks were curious, puzzling weeks in Jeanette Colter's life experience. Against her stepmother she felt no less prejudice, nevertheless circumstances compelling them to spend a good deal of time together, freely Jeanette accepted such aid as she was able to receive.

After John Marshall's disclosure of the original plan, Mr. Colter was invited to become a member of the committee who were to have charge of the preparations for an open-air field day.

About twelve miles from the Rainbow Ranch was a large country club where outdoor entertainments took place. In one sense the club was not private, since the invitations were general; however, no one was admitted except by invitation and the prizes in the various contests were offered by the club.

Essentially Wyoming is an outdoor state. What might be regarded as an unusual form of entertainment in other parts of the country was here a part of the routine.

On the open-air field days there were always exhibitions of riding, throwing the lasso, mounting a bucking pony, every outdoor sport of a Western character.

At first reluctant to have his wife and daughter participate, soon after Mr. Colter found himself deeply interested, not alone in the success of the entertainment, but in Jack and Jeanette's share in it.

On the day she received her father's consent to do as she wished, Jeanette would have preferred to be allowed to change her mind. But this she had not the courage to announce.

Perhaps originally she had enjoyed the thought of a certain amount of family opposition, since at present she was in a state of antagonism toward everything and everybody. Perhaps she believed that her youth finally would prove an impossible barrier. This was without counting on her father's influence or John Marshall's pleas in her behalf, as he too was a member of the Committee on Arrangements.

On the afternoon of the tea, long after the guests had departed, she and Jeanette sat in the window-seat in Jeanette's bedroom looking out over the moonlit fields, engaged in an ardent discussion.

"You are more changed, Jeanette, in a few weeks than I imagined it possible any human being could be," Lina protested. "Personally I see no sufficient reason for such a change. Not that I pretend to be pleased at father's marrying again, but I must say no one could be more agreeable than our new mother."

"Mother! I thought we had agreed not to use the title 'mother' to any one save our own mother!"

"I know, yet it is extremely uncomfortable to live with any human being and call her by no name of any kind. Father suggests that we say Jack, but that does not sound respectful. We have talked the situation over and I must say there is no reason why a stepmother so young as ours should desire to be made to appear old by half-grown daughters. So far we have not decided on any other name. If you can think of a better title, we shall all be glad, father and the girls as well.

"Jeanette, this is not what I was intending to talk about. I believe you want to take part in the riding contest in order to prove that Jeanette Colter is as skillful a horsewoman as Mrs. Colter. And in my life I never knew anything more ridiculous! As father said, suppose you do ride better than I or the girls in the neighborhood, you have no right even to dream of yourself as a successful rival of our stepmother's. I don't like the name, but you seem to wish me to employ it."

Previously having screwed up her bright, short chestnut hair into a tight little knot, Jeanette now puckered her brows and lips.

"You are a goose, Lina! Why talk as if the riding contest for women and girls would lie between the new Mrs. Colter and me? You and father are mistaken. There are other riders in the neighborhood more skillful than either of us. I simply want to be allowed to see what I can do. However, I may be ruled out as being too young." Jeanette yawned. "If this occurs I shall not care particularly; everybody at home has made such a fuss."

A few days after when Jeanette discovered that all opposition to her riding had been removed, of her own free will she did not see how it was possible to back down. For one thing she could never endure the teasing that would ensue, particularly from Cecil Perry.

Then began Jeanette's unusual relation with her stepmother. Two or three hours of each day they spent together in training for the contest without becoming better friends.

Occasionally Mr. Colter rode beside them or watched from some vantage point to offer suggestions, but more often they were alone.

Jeanette appreciated there was a good deal she might learn from her stepmother. Not only had she been famous throughout the state during her girlhood as one of the best horsewomen in Wyoming, she also had the advantage of an English training.

Notwithstanding, she always insisted that she preferred to any other the Western horse and saddle and the Western fashion of riding.

Little points Jeanette watched carefully, knowing the prize would be awarded for a number of reasons, but chiefly for speed and daring.

At first she had no hope of actually winning. Now as the days went by she found herself becoming more and more eager and hopeful.

She was improving, and often there were minor incidents in a race that affected the final result.

In the women's contest they were to ride across an open field, leap ditches and fences such as are found in the Western country, turn and come back to the judges' stand.

Being a natural horsewoman, Jeanette had made no serious effort to learn to ride properly until the present.

The question of winning or losing made no difference to her. She should, however, have appreciated that Jeanette was young and that success appeared as a very different thing to her.

In fact, Jeanette herself was surprised by the increasing intensity of her desire.

Upon his almost daily visits to the Rainbow Ranch Cecil Perry never failed to appear amused by Jeanette's efforts.

Never had he been able to forgive her attitude toward him, nor had he the magnanimity not to wish to be revenged.

After Jeanette's suggestion a club had been formed of the girls and boys in the neighborhood which they had named "The Silver Arrow."

Recalling Jeanette's sharp speech to him on the afternoon of the tea, at first Cecil had declined to join. Yielding to Lina's protests that he must not behave so childishly, he at last became a member of "The Club of the Silver Arrow," though this did not mean that he had forgiven Jeanette.

One morning just before lunch he was seated on the veranda with the other Rainbow Ranch Girls when Jeanette and Jack came riding toward the house to dismount.

The morning's practice had been unusually unsuccessful for Jeanette. Her pony had refused to jump one of the ditches on the place and she had been unable to force him. She had seen her stepmother skim gracefully across without the least effort and then return to find out why she had not followed. Jeanette was tired and discouraged and cross and warm.

Cecil and her sisters looked as if they had been having a particularly enjoyable morning. They had been playing tennis, but appeared entirely unruffled. Grudgingly to herself, as she climbed the porch steps, Jeanette felt obliged to admit that Cecil was almost good looking if one chanced to like golden hair and a fair skin and a slender, tall figure in a youth. It was even apparent that Cecil did seem more manly than at the beginning of their acquaintance. His skin had tanned, his hair burned a brighter gold, his expression become less petulant.

"You seemed used up, Jeanette, while Mrs. Colter is as fresh as if she were just starting for a ride," he began, rising and coming forward and shaking hands first with his hostess.

"Do you mind my staying to lunch?" he inquired. "Lina has asked me and I want to awfully."

"Gee, what a charming woman Mrs. Colter is, and what a beauty! At least she is the type of woman I admire. She is gracious and sweet-tempered and clever. I say, Jeanette, why don't you try to model yourself after her? You would be a lot more attractive."

"Take a piece of friendly advice, Jeanette. Give up this idea of the riding contest. I suppose you ride pretty well for a girl, but you will never be in it with Mrs. Colter. Perhaps you expect to be awarded the silver arrow for your courage in making the attempt?"

"Really, Cecil, I wonder if you realize what a talker you are. You talk more than any girl I ever have known. I suppose that is one of the reasons why I think you are rather effeminate. Forgive me if I go on upstairs at once, as I want to change my riding-habit before lunch."

"You may dismiss from your mind any idea, Cecil, that I shall give up riding now that I have determined to make the effort. Of course I have no possible thought of winning."

"Was it utterly out of the question that she should win? What a triumph over Cecil Perry if it only were possible."

By night and by day her dreams were tinged with this thought. There was no one to whom she would speak openly of her desire, but the mere suggestion that her stepmother might be successful when she failed increased Jeanette's sense of a carefully repressed dislike.

Unconsciously she was facing a great test of character. Was success of more importance than anything else in life?

THE TEST

Sitting up in bed with the first rays of light, Jeanette Colter found her hands clasped tight, her lips set, before realizing the cause.

"I wonder why I am so determined to win?" she asked herself half aloud, dropping back again on her pillow. She hoped to go to sleep for another hour if possible, or if not to sleep at least she would relax completely, so as not to be overtired.

Breakfast would not take place until eight o'clock. Afterwards they would motor over to the Club grounds.

"Absurd of me even to consider winning!" she murmured. "Not only is my stepmother ten times more skillful a horsewoman than I, but there are a dozen other women riders with more experience. I am years the youngest, although, thank goodness, there are two other girls who have entered the contest, one eighteen and one seventeen!"

When she came down to breakfast in her riding-habit she was later than any one else.

She was wearing a dark-blue cloth suit with a short coat and skirt, knee trousers and dark-brown leather leggings. The short skirt would be removed when the race began.

Jeanette discovered the room filled with people. Half a dozen outside guests were having breakfast with the family.

Jeanette walked over to her stepmother. She had finished eating and was before an open window with John Marshall and Cecil Perry beside her. Both young men were her admirers.

Her riding costume was similar, save that it was a golden-brown cloth with the coat and skirt slightly longer.

The two suits had arrived at the ranch only the day before. Jeanette's had been a surprise gift from her stepmother. On arising that morning she had found the entire outfit on a chair beside her bed.

"I want to thank you for my new habit," Jeanette began as cordially as possible. Inwardly she was annoyed that the present had been bestowed upon her by her stepmother rather than her father, whose idea it should have been.

"Oh, don't thank me, please, Jeanette, I don't like being thanked, as I never know how to show when I am grateful."

She then moved forward to speak to their neighbors, Senator and Mrs. Marshall and Peter Stevens. They were at this moment entering the dining-room door which opened on to a broad veranda.

"We have stopped by to wish you good-luck, Mrs. Colter," Senator Marshall remarked. He was a middle-aged man, the father of the younger man who was a friend and frequent visitor at the Rainbow Ranch.

Jack extended her hand. She looked very like the girl, Jacqueline Ralston, whom her old friends remembered and loved.

"I am so glad to see you, but please don't wish me good-luck; Jeanette must win, if either of us has the good fortune. She has been learning to be a better rider than I am.

"Do try and persuade my husband to be more cheerful. After agreeing to allow Jeanette and me to enter and showing a proper interest in our training, this morning he is suddenly depressed. I don't believe he has ever appeared more so save during the months when I ran for Congress and you were so impolite as to defeat me, Peter Stevens."

As his wife concluded the greeting of her three additional guests, Mr. Colter came forward.

"I do feel a surprising antagonism to Jeanette's and Jack's riding against each other in to-day's contest. I know it is too late now to offer any objection and not fair to be discouraging. But I don't believe I realized until this morning how large the number of spectators would be. It is a wonderful day and no one will remain at home."

"Why should you mind our being rivals in the race if we do not? Neither do we seriously object to the size of our audience."

A quarter of an hour later a line of automobiles and of open carriages were on their way to the Club grounds. The motors far outnumbered the others, nevertheless there were a few carriages drawn by handsome horses. Other vehicles, less impressive, were being pulled along by smaller Western ponies, broken for driving as well as riding.

In their own car Jeanette sat facing her father with Lina on one side of her and Eda on the other. Via was between her stepmother and father.

In the midst of her own strong effort to appear indifferent, Jeanette was aware of the unusual gravity of her father and also of her younger sister's white seriousness. But then Via was always apt to catch other people's moods and more than usually sympathetic with her father.

"You will be careful to-day, Jeanette? Promise me? If anything should happen to you I should feel responsible. You are too young for such an experience. Won't you simply try to ride as well as possible but make no effort to win? In any case it would be out of the question."

"Please promise, Jeanette. I am anxious about you too," the younger girl pleaded.

A low burst of laughter came from Cecil Perry, who was seated next the chauffeur. It may not have borne any relation to the conversation which he was overhearing, nevertheless it irritated Jeanette, whose nerves were less under her control than she appreciated.

Observing that her sister did not intend to reply, Lina made a hasty remark to fill the breach.

In spite of the fact that the entire audience had been invited, there were many spectators crowding the grounds.

Overhead the sky was a thick, warm blue, while from across the prairies the midsummer wind blew sweet and strong.

Jeanette stood close beside her father, feeling a keen desire to apologize to him for her attitude since his marriage. She would abandon entering the race at this last moment if he so desired.

At present there was no time for discussion. A group of friends came hurrying toward them and soon Jeanette found herself separated from her father. Fifteen minutes later she and her stepmother were beside their horses talking to the men who had brought them over from the Rainbow Ranch.

Jeanette laid her hand for a moment against her horse's nose. He was quivering with an excitement keen as her own and as poorly concealed.

Her stepmother was to ride a horse which had been presented her by her husband before their marriage. Jeanette's was not her own, but one she had chosen from among the ponies on the Rainbow Ranch. On ordinary occasions she had never been permitted to use him, as he was a singularly spirited and beautiful animal. During the weeks of training for to-day's event she had ridden no other mount.

The next three-quarters of an hour Jeanette remained in her place watching other exhibitions of skill. Upon former occasions she had been entranced by the same kind of spectacle, but at present found it difficult to feel more than a passing interest.

Once she managed to reach a certain degree of enthusiasm, when Billy Preston, one of the assistant managers of their own Rainbow Ranch, received the first prize for the finest exhibition of skill in subduing one of the unbroken Western ponies.

No one who has not lived in the West may be able to understand Jeanette's point of view, nor that of her family and friends.

The capital of the state was the largest city she had ever seen in her life. Wyoming was an outdoor state. The people of the state took the deepest interest in outdoor sports which were an especial feature of the ranch life and training. There was nothing out of the way in the fact that Jeanette and Mrs. Colter and a dozen other women and girls were to take part in one of to-day's riding events.

They were not to ride around an ordinary track. Their race would be across the open field. In the vista she could observe small ditches that must be successfully jumped, an occasional fence of the height usual in the Western ranch to prevent the straying of the cattle. In so far as possible the course had been made to appear like a stretch of land across the prairie country with only such obstacles as might be encountered in a day's ride.

The effort lay in the fact that the ride must be made before a group of critical and interested spectators and with other contestants.

Jeanette glanced toward her stepmother. How undisturbed she appeared, as if the race ahead of them was only the most ordinary amusement, of no greater or less importance than any game played with friends!

A moment Jeanette envied her coolness and then felt a sense of pity. This it must mean to grow old. One felt neither enthusiasm nor excitement. One should not envy such a state of mind or being.

When their race was announced Jeanette noticed her stepmother lean over and whisper to her father. He nodded and smiled, but never lost his grave, almost anxious air.

He did not go down with them, where their horses were in waiting. John Marshall and Cecil Perry were their escorts.

The fourteen contestants stood laughing and talking together, Jeanette appearing like a little girl among them.

"You deserve to win, Jeanette, for your courage," Mrs. Markham, one of Jeanette's old friends, murmured. "I am afraid with your stepmother as a rival, none of us has a chance. I have never ridden with her, but have always been told she was the best horsewoman in Wyoming."

Jeanette happily had no chance to reply. A bell was ringing and a moment after they stood listening to the rules of their race.

The prize would be awarded the first rider who reached the goal on the opposite side of the field and returned across the same course. There was to be no avoiding of the ditches and fences. The riders were not to impede one another beyond the rules which they understood.

Jeanette was scarcely able to listen attentively, as she knew beforehand what was required.

"You will be careful, Jeanette. Don't take unnecessary chances," she said half in words, half in the expression of her eyes.

Jeanette set her lips. She had no time to think and no chance even to nod her head.

Her pony was passing easily ahead of her stepmother and was nose to nose with the two riders leading the entire number.

The first ditch Jeanette took easily. Still she raced on ahead, with the wind singing in her ears, her heart beating quickly and happily.

She was doing as well as the best of the other riders. Her stepmother was not among them.

Five minutes after Jeanette found herself moving along with one other woman in the lead. The third rider's horse had refused to take the last fence and she was dropping out.

Jeanette and her companion arrived first at the goal on the opposite end of the field. The other woman was ahead, but in the turn, which was difficult and required skill and courage, Jeanette found herself in the lead.

The following moment in a smooth stretch of riding Jeanette heard the light hoofs of another horse close to her own. Then the horse and rider passed her. Jeanette recognized her stepmother.

In the midst of her annoyance she could not fail to see that she was sitting her horse as easily and with as little appearance of fatigue or strain as she had shown a little time before when talking idly with her friends.

Jeanette knew that she herself was overexcited by her unexpected success. She also was growing tired. Her pony might be influenced by her emotions. She remembered now that her stepmother had advised her half a dozen times to save her strength till toward the end of the race.

An instant of grudging admiration. Her stepmother had jumped one of the most difficult of the ditches with the same ease and grace with which she ordinarily rode up to the door in front of their home.

Her heart pounding and her blood beating faster in her ears, Jeanette followed her example. Her pony was showing fatigue, but gallant as she herself was.

Jeanette felt she would not care so intensely if only some one not in her own family would win.

She remembered Cecil Perry's farewell good wishes to her stepmother. He might at least have had the good manners to wish her well, even if they did not pretend to like each other.

Jeanette was not consciously thinking of this, only of her ride. Her thought was merely subconscious, her only really conscious thought was of success. At whatever cost to herself, or her pony, she must win.

The next jump would probably be the supreme test, as beyond lay a stretch of easy riding.

She could only see the graceful, gallant figure in the brown cloth riding suit so like her own. She had no sensation of dislike toward her stepmother at this instant, only the impression that the race was between them.

She was nearing the final ditch ahead of all the riders. Close behind her was the easy patter of the horse and rider with whom she was most familiar.

Jeanette recognized that her stepmother had followed the plan she had advised her to pursue. From the beginning she had saved her horse for the final effort. Neither horse nor rider was in the least overexcited or tired.

In almost a panic Jeanette headed her own pony for the last jump. An instant he wavered, then recognizing his own fatigue, he refused to make the attempt.

Her stepmother had risen in her saddle. In another moment she would clear the ditch.

There was no opportunity for clear thought. Everything that the past six weeks had developed in her nature must have gone toward the making of Jeanette's decision. If she could not win, at least she could prevent her stepmother's easy success.

Directly in the path of the other rider, Jeanette drew her pony. With any other rider less experienced than Jacqueline Colter the result would have been a tragedy for them both.

Quick as Jeanette's action, her stepmother's was equally swift. With her horse poised for a forward leap, Jack brought him instantly to a standstill. Then without a word, she turned and rode quietly away. She would make no effort to win. Obviously she had abandoned the idea of the final jump and was riding toward the end of the course.

A moment, not of regret but of fear, seized Jeanette. She had broken the rules of the contest. The judges and the spectators must have observed her action. Disgrace awaited her.

Yet she set her lips until her square chin showed an added firmness. She would go through to the end. Her stepmother might have spared her, might have made her action less apparent by attempting the jump a second time. Afterwards they could have insisted her action was an accident due to nervousness and to a lack of experience.

A second time Jeanette drove her horse forward toward the fence. This time he rose and skimmed gracefully across, as gallant and undisturbed as Jeanette Colter outwardly appeared.

Together they raced on toward the judges' stand. Behind her she could hear several of the other riders not far away.

Whether or not she had won the race honestly she intended to be first under the blue ribbon, tied across the field before the judges' box.

As her pony passed under the blue ribbon, there was a sound of applause from the spectators, then cheering from her neighbors and friends.

One of the men from their own Rainbow Ranch took hold of the bridle of her horse.

A moment later and the other riders were standing beside her. Jeanette had a confused impression that they were congratulating her.

Senator Marshall and Peter Stevens, who were two of the judges, were coming toward her.

Some one thrust into her hands a big bouquet of roses tied with the club colors, blue and white.

At this moment Jeanette beheld her stepmother. She had ridden across the field more slowly than the others.

She got off her horse. Jeanette then saw her father step forward and speak to her.

If the judges had not seen what she had done, if the audience was unaware of her lack of sportsmanship, her stepmother had only to speak.

But her stepmother was leaving the group of riders and going back to her place beside Lina and Eda and Via.

The brilliant flush faded from Jeanette's cheeks. Rather any one else announce her fault than her father. Worse than any accident that could have occurred to see him ashamed.

"Jeanette, if you only knew how glad I am the race is over and how proud I am of you!" he exclaimed, disregarding the people about them.

Jeanette put her free hand to her throat, the other held the bunch of roses. She must speak and confess her fault if no one had seen what she had done. Useless to pretend it was an accident! It had not been. Apparently her stepmother did not intend to make any accusation against her.

"I did not win fairly," Jeanette was about to falter when Senator Marshall reached her.

"Jeanette, I want to congratulate you. The youngest girl in the racing contest and the winner! We are proud of you."

All her life she had been taught the rules of the game. This had been her father's chief effort in bringing up his four motherless daughters. In whatever they undertook, a game of croquet, tennis, a guessing contest indoors, the importance of the game was not what counted. One must always and at all times play fair.

Two months before would she have stood silent while Peter Stevens pinned upon the lapel of her riding coat the prize offered by the club to its best woman rider? The pin was of sapphires set in silver, the Indian emblem, the Swastika, the emblem of good luck, inherited from our primitive ancestors, which has gone round the world.

FACE TO FACE

Curiously Jeanette slept peacefully all night, untroubled by dreams. She was tired out and glad the race was over. More than she had imagined, her mind and heart had been set upon the one thought for weeks.

For her father's sake, for all their sakes, her stepmother had not the courage to proclaim aloud what she had done, won by a dishonorable action. Now in the midst of the family she would feel no such hesitation.

One question puzzled Jeanette. Would her stepmother speak first to her father or to her? If to her father, doubtless he would insist that she return the prize awarded her.

The following morning at breakfast no one talked at any length of the day before.

Jeanette appreciated that her stepmother avoided looking directly at her, or else she kept her own lids down whenever the possibility arose.

Lina congratulated her a second time. Via showed the same grave, worried air which her face had revealed the previous day.

Her younger sister's almost uncanny perception of what the people she cared for were thinking and feeling, Jeanette had admired in the past. At present she resented so psychic a temperament.

Her father was not at the breakfast table, having eaten earlier and departed for Laramie.

Once during the long, tiresome meal Jeanette forgot her own uncomfortable position.

"Jack, don't you think father has something upon his mind at present that is troubling him a good deal? I thought he was worrying for fear you or Jeanette might be hurt in the riding contest. Last night when we returned I handed him a telegram which was here waiting for him and he appeared more troubled than ever. Is he in some business difficulty?

"Hope you don't mind my calling you Jack. Under the circumstances we still find it hard to say 'mother.' You know we always heard you spoken of as 'Jack' by Aunt Jean, Aunt Olive, Aunt Frieda and father."

A more cheerful expression appeared upon Mrs. Colter's face as if she too were for the moment relieved from an idea that troubled her.

"Oh, of course I prefer to be called 'Jack'," she returned, "absurd as the name may now seem for me. I have been called Jack always by the people who had any affection for me. Of course you girls must realize it is not your respect I long for but your friendship. Naturally you do not wish to use the most beautiful title in the world for any one save your own mother. Still, do please call me something or other. It has been pretty hard not to have any name. I wonder if you realize how often you wait to catch my eye before speaking to me at all!"

"I have not answered your first question, Lina. Yes, your father is worried over some business matters. But I am sure things will adjust themselves and there is no reason so far to trouble you."

An hour Jeanette waited alone in her own room expecting a tap on the door and the interview she was trying to prepare herself for.

She did not sit down. After making her bed she wandered about her room, idly fingering her possessions.

On the mantel stood a framed photograph of her mother, who had been governess to the original group of Ranch Girls years ago.

At the end of the hour she went downstairs, passing her stepmother in the hall, but they said no word to each other.

An impulse seized Jeanette. She would confess and ask pardon and advice. If she had offended against any one else in the world at this moment she would have done both. But in these last two months her original resentment against her father's marriage had grown into a prejudice she was unable to resist.

A short time after Jeanette saddled her own pony, not the one of yesterday, and started on a ride.

A little more than a mile from the house she dismounted and sat down by a tree near the road.

Five minutes later Cecil Perry came riding along the same road, approaching the Rainbow Ranch.

From a short distance off Jeanette watched him with a sensation of surprised admiration.

How greatly he had altered since his arrival in the West! She recalled their first meeting and his spoiled, childish manner. He had scarcely known how to keep his seat in the saddle at that time. At present he rode with a fair amount of ease and self-assurance. His skin had reddened, the lines of his face showed firmer.

He was galloping by without observing her when Jeanette, with a sudden irresistible desire for companionship, called out to him.

"Cecil, are you on the way to our house? Won't you stop and speak to me for a moment?"

Jeanette was lying stretched out on a bed of soft prairie grass; beyond her the ground billowed and swam in a sea of green.

Indifferent to the lateness of the hour, a Western lark soared overhead, now and then uttering its peculiar sweet, wild note.

He held the reins of his horse in one hand and looked as if he were reluctant to answer her summons.

"You need not remain long with me, Cecil, unless you wish. You were on your way to see us?"

"Yes, I was on my way to your house," Cecil returned. "I want to ask all of you to spend an afternoon with me at Mr. Stevens'. We have been neglecting our club of the 'Silver Arrow' in the excitement over the riding contest. You remember the idea originated with you. At the end of the summer the arrow is to be awarded to the one of us who has accomplished the most courageous deed."

"Why have you never congratulated me upon winning yesterday, Cecil? Don't you think it required some courage on my part to enter a contest with older and better riders?"

She now was sitting bolt upright, her blue-gray eyes dark and defiant, the color hot in her cheeks.

Had Cecil alone among the spectators observed her unsportsmanlike behavior of the day before, or had her stepmother taken Cecil into her confidence? This last idea appeared unlikely. They had not seen each other alone, and to do Jeanette justice she did not believe her stepmother would speak first to Cecil.

In any case she had about concluded to attempt to brave out the situation and if Cecil made an accusation against her to deny whatever he inferred. Never would she appear as a penitent before Cecil Perry.

"Don't congratulate me unless you like. I realize you wished my stepmother to win," she continued with an obvious attempt at lightness. "She gave up the effort to win at the last, else I would not have been successful."

"I shall be glad to come to your meeting of the Club of the Silver Arrow, although I do not expect to be here when the Arrow is bestowed upon one of us." Suddenly Jeanette reached this conclusion.

"I told you I intended to go to boarding school next fall, but only this morning I decided to ask father to allow me to leave very soon. There must be lots of places where I could stay for a short time, before school opens. I suppose I shall feel as out of place in the East as you when you arrived out here."

Jeanette's manner had never been more friendly. She looked attractive, too, with her color, her eyes darker than usual, her chin rounder and more appealing.

"Oh, I guess not, Jeanette. You are not such a baby as I was to start with. If you will excuse me I will go on to the ranch. I want to see Lina and Mrs. Colter. They have asked me to lunch. Will you come along now?"

The girl shook her head. Her lips trembled slightly, but her companion did not observe this.

"No, I shall probably not be back before dinner. Please mention the fact if any one inquires for me. I presume no one will. I am the outsider in the family now, even Via is no longer faithful and prefers some one else. Good-by."

An instant Cecil Perry suffered an impulse to turn back and speak frankly to Jeanette.

AN AUGUST AFTERNOON

His house was a new one, a large, square, frame building, with a wide front veranda.

The outside was not attractive. Inside the furnishings were masculine, heavy and handsome in character, but not particularly appropriate.

Upon a rise of land it stood, facing the rolling prairies, with the purple rim of the western hills beyond.

If the house was not especially beautiful or comfortable, the broad veranda was both of these things.

A congressman in Washington during the greater part of the year, Peter Stevens was able to spend only a few summer months at his own place. During this time he declared that he felt every moment indoors a wasted one.

Half a dozen of his friends were beside him when the four girls from the Rainbow Ranch were seen approaching. Down the steps he went to greet them.

Up to the last moment Jeanette had contemplated finding an excuse which would make it possible for her to remain at home.

In the past few days nothing had occurred outside her usual experience. No look or word from her stepmother had indicated that she had any thought of referring to the secret which lay between them. She had no further reason to presume that any one else shared this secret. She was by no means sure that Cecil Perry knew, thinking perhaps that her imagination had played her false and that she had been mistaken in his manner toward her.

Nevertheless she was suffering from an unusual listlessness and lack of interest in all the things she had cared for previously.

Lina and her father had observed and spoken of the change of manner and behavior, inquiring if she were ill.

To reply that she was not ill, but not feeling as well as usual was the safe fashion in which she met the situation. It was also true. Jeanette really was glad of her own dullness and lack of energy. Instead of riding over the ranch and persuading her sisters to long excursions, or following her father in his daily routine of work, she preferred to lie out under the trees, reading or making an effort to study.

The only thought that afforded her any pleasure at present was the idea of going East to school at the earliest possible hour.

Always she had been vaguely aware that she had a tiny streak of jealousy which sometimes amused and at others annoyed her own family.

She had wished to be first in her father's affection from the time she was little more than a baby. Since Lina was closer to her mother in disposition, Jeanette had always a childish fancy to hear herself spoken of as her father's favorite.

When Via came her father had laughed over her jealousy of the gentle, fair baby. Her mother had not laughed but taken the matter seriously. By and by Jeanette had grown to care more for Via than for any one else save her father.

After her mother's death, save for her jealousy of Jimmie Kent's friendship with her father, she had lived unaware of her own fault. Then followed her father's announcement of his intended marriage to his former ward, Jacqueline Ralston, one of the four original Ranch Girls.

During the weeks before the ceremony Jeanette had not appreciated the extent of her own emotion.

The house had been filled with other relatives and guests and she had been absorbed and entertained by them.

Of her prospective stepmother she had seen less than any one else. She and her son, Jimmie, were living at the old Rainbow Lodge, the less pretentious home occupied by the four Rainbow Ranch Girls at the beginning of this series of Ranch Girl stories. The large house had been under the supervision of Mrs. Ralph Merritt, for whom Jeanette had been named.

"You are sure to care more for Jack than any of the rest of us, Jeanette. You are so much more like her as a girl than any of your sisters, you should have been her namesake, not mine!" Mrs. Merritt insisted.

Many times Jeanette had recalled this speech since her father's return home with his second wife.

It had been far from the truth. As the weeks passed Jeanette found herself liking her stepmother less and less. Now, there was no question of her own feeling. She had prejudiced her stepmother against her forever, so there could be no hope of even ordinary friendliness between them.

"Jack is the soul of honor, she will understand you perfectly, Jeanette. She has a quick temper, and was sometimes obstinate and self-willed as a girl, as you are. She will be able to appreciate your difficulties. You will find her always just, always frank and fair, unless she feels that she has been tricked or deceived. Then, I grant you, it is harder for her to forgive than other people. These weaknesses are so far from her own nature. I hope no better thing for you, Jeanette, than that you may become more like her as you grow older."

These thoughts had been haunting Jeanette as their motor car was bearing her sisters and herself to the meeting of the Club of the Silver Arrow.

More than ever she was becoming convinced that there was no solution for her save in a boarding school in the East.

"Goodness, Jeanette, what is the matter, have you fallen asleep?" Lina suddenly queried, as the car was within sight of Mr. Stevens' home. "It is unusual with you, but you have scarcely spoken a word since we left home. You said this morning you had a headache and might not be able to come with us, but now you are here do try to appear more cheerful. You and Cecil have so many differences he may think you are resenting something that he has said or done in the past."

"I feel embarrassed, Jeanette, at the prospect of meeting strangers. Do help me," she murmured, sure of the appeal to her sister's bolder temperament that never had failed her in the past.

"Don't be a goose, Via, there will only be the members of the club, whom you know, and a few grown persons. They will not interfere with us, so you need not mind. I don't believe you really are half so afraid of people as you pretend, else how do you manage to be more popular than the rest of us?"

"How do you do, Cecil? I am glad it is such a lovely afternoon," Jeanette said, thrusting her hand out of the car window and speaking to her host before the others.

"I thought you were to spend the summer in Europe," Jeanette murmured, after they had shaken hands.

She was feeling a sudden, odd, unaccountable fancy for the fair, pretty woman who was Cecil Perry's mother. They were alike in appearance, the same delicate skin, gold hair and blue eyes, the same half spoiled expression which Jeanette had observed and resented on the boy's face at their first meeting.

He appeared more manly and vigorous now after two months of outdoor life among new friends and interests.

"I had intended spending the summer in Europe, but found I was missing Cecil too much. Besides, Europe is not what it used to be in the old days. The shadow of war still rests on it. When I returned to New York I wanted to send for Cecil, but Mr. Stevens wrote he was not to be torn away from Western influences so soon. He added that I might be permitted to make them a visit. Cecil has written me of you."

Equally Mrs. Colter was attracted by the erect figure, the proud head with the short, bright brown hair, the gray-blue eyes. The girl's expression suggested that she was making some kind of an appeal to her, a complete stranger.

Jeanette was wondering if Mrs. Perry would be kind to her when she went back home, so sure was Jeanette that she would soon be freed from her own difficulties by leaving for an Eastern school.

Reading the advertising in one of the current magazines, she had chosen a school on Long Island which she believed she would prefer to any other. This she intended to recommend to her father, and Cecil had told her they had a summer place on Long Island.

As Jeanette moved away she was wondering if Cecil would confide to his mother his suspicion concerning her. Some day she must find out what knowledge he possessed, or believed himself to possess.

A quarter of an hour later the entire number was assembled on the lawn in front of the house.

Afterwards Cecil planned certain sports that would test the courage and initiative of each member.

There were no shade trees on the newly made lawn, but several large, gaily striped green-and-white umbrellas had been set up beside each other with chairs and circular tables beneath.

Cecil and Eric Lawton bore around slips of paper and pencils for the choosing of the president, vice-president, secretary and treasurer of the new society.

Peter Stevens wandered down from the veranda with Mrs. Perry in order personally to count the slips.

"It would not surprise me, Jeanette, if you were chosen president instead of one of the boys. Do you know there was an informal discussion the other day, after you had won the racing contest, to award you the silver arrow. No one of us will succeed in doing anything so thrilling as winning a riding contest. I never dreamed you would win, Jeanette. Really, I never have been so proud of any one!"

"My family is annoyed; I have talked of nothing else since. We held another conference and concluded that it was too soon to bestow the silver arrow on any one of us, as the club had never been actually organized and we had no officers. We have always planned to ask several grown persons to assist us when we make the final decision.

No such ill fortune could descend upon her as to be chosen president of a club which she herself had suggested should be a test of courage and honor.

Why she should feel this intense objection to her own election she had no time or opportunity to analyze at present.

"Cecil Perry, six votes. Eric Lawton, six votes. Jeanette Colter, eight." A burst of applause was led by Cecil's mother.

"Oh, no, it is impossible; I absolutely decline to accept!" she announced in an excited tone and manner unusual with her. Ordinarily she was self-possessed and oftentimes humorous.

"Mr. Stevens, do please explain I cannot possibly be president. One of the boys should be elected, Cecil, or Eric, not a girl."

"Besides, I don't expect to be in this neighborhood long. Very soon I hope to go away."

To them Jeanette's statement was an entire surprise. Certainly there had been no word at home of her intention of leaving.

Jeanette was sorry she had spoken before them instead of first to her father. Perhaps her request would be less readily granted.

"Why, Jeanette, what in the world do you mean? You never have mentioned this at home!" Lina exclaimed, and then was sorry for having spoken.

Jeanette turned upon her a supplicating look, almost as if she were asking aid in some crisis. Why should her sister take so simple a circumstance as her election to the presidency of their new club with such seriousness? She had originated the idea of the club and the silver arrow was actually her own possession. Neither she nor Via nor Eda had dreamed of disputing her right.

"Don't allow the child to be troubled. Plainly she does not desire the honor, Peter," Mrs. Perry whispered in her companion's ear.

"The election is perfectly regular, Jeanette. I don't understand your prejudice against accepting. However, if you feel as you do, we can try another ballot with Eric and Cecil as the only nominees."

Later Eric Lawton was elected president, Lina Colter vice-president and Cecil Perry secretary and treasurer.

THE REQUEST

On that same evening after dinner Jeanette concluded that she would make her request of her father. Under the circumstances she felt she owed this to herself and to him, not wishing him to learn of her speech of the afternoon from any one else. She never had considered the possibility of his refusal.

Business difficulties he might be undergoing, but none sufficiently serious to interfere with her desire and plan.

Often in the past they had discussed the idea that she and Lina eventually go East to school. Lina intended entering college in another year, but not so clever or bookish as her sister, she only wanted the additional training of boarding school.

In thinking over the matter the only difficulty Jeanette feared was that she might not be permitted to leave home immediately.

Another six weeks or more lay ahead before the formal opening of the Eastern schools. What excuse could she offer for her own determination to leave home at once? This, for reasons she would not confess even to herself, she was passionately anxious to do.

As usual, Lina immediately picked up a book and dropped down into a big chair, becoming oblivious of every one and everything else.

Via stood with her hand in her stepmother's listening to extracts from a letter she had received from her son, Jimmie. He had become Via's devoted friend in the year he had spent at the Rainbow Lodge before his mother's marriage to her former guardian and friend.

A small gray kitten occupied Eda's attention. She had the habit of devotedly cherishing an odd pet of some kind. At present the family rejoiced that her latest fancy was so normal and so little trouble. At various times she had adored a sick calf, a colt with a broken leg, a baby fox.

Jeanette was glad to see her father ignore the others and cross over the large room to stand alone by the window. Apparently he was looking out at the sunset closing down on the August day.

As she reached his side and slipped her hand inside his arm in her former affectionate fashion, she saw at once that he was not paying the slightest attention to the landscape but was absorbed in some thought of his own.

He appeared troubled and unlike himself. Jeanette gave his arm a little squeeze, at the same time drawing him away.

"Come out into the yard, father, I want to talk to you. Of late we have been so little together alone."

"Partly your fault, Jeanette. Whenever I have asked you to ride with me over the place in our old fashion you have refused. I realize you were busy making ready for the great contest. Why do you never wear your prize? The Swastika will bring you good luck."

As Mr. Colter talked, he allowed himself to be led out of the drawing-room, across the veranda and down the steps into the yard.

Suddenly the sunset overspread the sky in a blaze of color. Involuntarily he and Jeanette paused, forgetting their own desires and annoyances.

A moment after, they moved on toward a group of chairs that were under one of the tall cottonwood trees.

Mr. Colter seated himself in one. Jeanette dropped down on the ground facing him.

Over her two knees she clasped her hands and began rocking gently back and forth.

More than Jeanette was aware he had been conscious of her state of mind since his new marriage and concerned over it.

She was wearing a bright blue dress made with simple straight lines and of some light summer material. Jeanette cared little for decorations, so there was no trimming. The neck was cut low and the sleeves to the elbow showed the lines of her firm brown throat and arms. To-day her eyes were bluer than usual and her lips redder.

"There is one thing certain, father, never shall I be awarded our silver arrow as a badge of moral courage. Mr. Stevens suggested this afternoon that we have pins in the shape of the silver arrow and wear them as the insignia of our club. There is something I want to ask you, a great, big favor and all at once I am afraid to ask. I never have been before in my life."

Mr. Colter leaned over. As Jeanette caught the expression in his eyes she flushed. Had she really been under the impression that he had ceased to care for her in the old fashion since his marriage? Had she not been trying to convince herself of this fact in order to pursue her own course? She had wished her jealousy and discontent to be fed.

"There is nothing to be alarmed over, father. I don't want anything you won't be willing to do for me. It is only that I am anxious to go away to boarding school this winter and want you to let me go immediately, within another week or so, as soon as you can make arrangements."

Jeanette dropped her eyes toward her brown hands clasped together over her knees.

She hoped she was not going to be asked for explanations. Why should one not ask for what one desired and at once receive it without further discussion? How much pleasanter this would be for everybody!

"I thought, Jeanette, we had all made up our minds that you and Lina would not consider going East to school for another year. When Lina is ready for college, you will have plenty of time for boarding school."

"The most disagreeable thing about having sisters is that one always is being included with them. No one speaks of what I like or wish, or what Lina likes or Via or Eda. One always talks about 'the girls' in a group, as if we possessed the same tastes and ideas! I detest it and want my own individuality. I cannot possibly see what Lina and her college have to do with boarding school and me."

Better than she could appreciate he understood Jeanette's intense individualism. Had he not broken away from many traditions when he had come West to live years before?

"You are right, Jeanette. Perhaps what Lina desires, or what she does, is not the important point with you. Yet there may be this side to it. I would be happier and more satisfied concerning you, were you and Lina reasonably near each other during the first years you are away from home. Lina has a quieter judgment and is less wilful and self-centered. I am not criticizing you; you possess other fine traits of character that Lina has not. You are one of the most straight-forward persons in the world, Jeanette, and one of the most honest. You have great physical courage too, dear, and I hope moral courage. A man, you see, can sometimes understand physical courage better than moral. Why are you in such a hurry to leave home? Please tell me. I can guess a few of your reasons, but I believe in a little while they will become less important.

"You have not liked my marrying again and it has prejudiced you. You are sure you never can be congenial with your stepmother and that she has separated us. So you want to go away from the old ranch and the people and things you formerly loved. Well, I can understand, only not the great haste. When you were training for the riding match I thought you and Jack were learning to like each other better. Since your success I have noticed you have avoided each other. This is Jack's fault more than yours. You see, I have been watching you both pretty carefully.

"Jeanette dear, because I care so deeply for your stepmother, don't think I am more blind to her faults than to my daughters', I have known her since she was a little girl. You are not unlike her, wilful and difficult oftentimes, but always with a high sense of honor. At first I thought she seemed almost too anxious to make friends with you girls, but of late she has not appeared sufficiently sympathetic with you. I'll talk the matter over with her, Jeanette dear. You need not mind, I shall——"

"Please don't, not for anything in the world! I mean don't speak to Jack, to Mrs. Colter, or to 'mother'—anything you want me to call her. I'll call her by any name you desire, as it won't be for long. The fault is not with her. She has tried to be kind, only we don't like each other and people who don't, can't. There, that's all there is to it! Besides, I am not like her in the least. I am not honest or candid."

Jean hesitated: "I want to go away at once because I need extra preparation in order to enter one of the advanced classes. I promise to study as I never have in my life before."

Catching her hand in his, Mr. Colter drew Jeanette to her feet and toward him. He then arose.

"Suppose we walk up and down for a time, Jeanette. There is something I wish to tell you. I have been wanting to break the news and I am glad to have you as my first confidant. Maybe you will help me."

Jeanette knew her father made this speech to re-establish their former intimate relation. She felt a little glow of pleasure, a momentary forgetting of the intensity of her own self-absorption.

A few moments they walked silently up and down the long avenue between the cottonwood trees.

Not far away the lights from the big house, Rainbow Castle, were beginning to show in the windows. In the sky the colors of the after-math were less bright than the earlier sunset.

At a greater distance Jeanette could spy the softer, darker outline of the old house known as Rainbow Lodge, once the home of the original group of Ranch Girls. At present it stood empty and forlorn.

She appreciated that she was not wishing to leave home immediately merely because she disliked her stepmother and the change her father's marriage had wrought in her own life. For the first time in her life she understood the meaning of fear. Daily, hourly, she was afraid that her stepmother might betray what she had done. She was afraid that Cecil Perry might have some knowledge of her dishonorable behavior and refer to the fact.

She was even afraid that she might betray herself. Such an impulse had lately swept over her when her father had spoken of her high sense of honor.

At least with herself Jeanette made no effort at pretense. She simply accepted the fact that she had not played fair, but wished no one to discover the truth. Of course one might argue that a riding contest was not of sufficient importance to take so seriously. This was not Jeanette's point of view.

She had not played the game. She had not won honestly. The contest and the desire to win had appeared so important to her that she had broken her own rules of self-respect.

With a slight start Jeanette came to herself. Her father was speaking and would expect an answer.

THE REFUSAL

"Sorry, Jeanette, I cannot do what you ask. Please be patient a few moments. I should regret your going from home just now, and feel it would be a mistake. Yet you know I take your view of the matter into account as well as my own. I have tried always to be friends with you, not to force you to believe as I do, and for that reason have been specially disappointed in you of late, dear. But this is not what I want to tell you. The truth is I have not the money to afford your going East to school at present."

Jeanette felt the pressure of her father's arm on her own. It occurred to her that suddenly he seemed older than she had ever appreciated.

She glanced up at him, hardly comprehending what he had confided to her. His dark hair was graying, there were deeper lines in his strong, fine face, yet his eyes were as blue as ever. Jeanette often had thought that her father had the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

"You know, dear, that we have lived in the big house on the Rainbow Ranch, not because it was our own, or because we could afford a home of such elegance, but because no one else was here to occupy it. The former Ranch Girls, Jean and Olive and Frieda, are married and away. My income as manager of the ranch and part owner has been sufficient for our expenses until of late.

"You have realized, perhaps, that the ranch has not been paying recently. There is a business depression all over the country and we have had to suffer as well as other people."

Was her father actually refusing her request and offering as a reason for his refusal a valid argument? Would entreaty, temper, all the weapons at her command, fail to move him?

Not consciously did Jeanette ask these questions of herself, yet they were in her mind fighting for control.

For the first time during the evening her face colored warmly; the firm line of her lips and chin became apparent.

"Surely, father, your income cannot be so reduced that you cannot afford to send me to boarding school. Why, we have always had everything we wished and lots of servants! Besides, if we are to be poor I ought to learn to support myself."

Jeanette uttered a sigh of relief. This last remark, which happily had occurred to her at the moment, could not fail to influence her father. In any case he must be forced to see that she must get away from home. She could see nothing else as of equal importance.

"You may be right, Jeanette. I have always wished you girls to learn to make your own living. Later I shall do what I can to help. What you must see, dear, is that at present it is impossible. Not only is the ranch failing to pay, but the stocks in which I have placed nearly all my savings are yielding almost nothing.

"You are young, Jeanette, yet I am going to tell you something else. I have not told any one as much as I am telling you, not even your stepmother. She knows I have been troubled about business matters, but she does not know how seriously. There are several reasons for this."

Mr. Colter began walking more slowly, not glancing at the figure or the face beside him. He did not catch the expression in Jeanette's gray-blue eyes, and about her lips.

"You see, dear, your stepmother has a good deal of money of her own and is the most generous person in the world. She has been trying her best ever since our marriage to make me use her income, but this I have utterly declined to do. It is enough that she has married a man so much older than she, so unworthy of her in many ways."

"Nonsense, father!" Jeanette said sharply, again moved from the thought of herself. "Well, I suppose I should not say what I really think. But truly, sending me away need not cost a great deal. I am willing to go to as inexpensive a school as we can find. Only you must realize that I am forced to go, as I simply cannot endure to stay at home any longer."

Without replying Mr. Colter turned and started back toward the house. Finally he said in a different tone:

"It is impossible for me to do what you wish, Jeanette. Do not discuss the question again."

In her father's tone there was a finality which Jeanette understood, resented and did not intend to obey. For the present she dared say no more.

"I must tell your mother and the other girls what I have just told you, Jeanette, and see if they receive the information in the same spirit."

Inside the drawing-room one could have supposed there had been no change or movement of any kind since the withdrawal of the others. Lina, however, still in her big chair, had ceased reading and sat with a closed book in her hand. Her brows were drawn close together and her cheeks were delicately flushed as if she were thinking deeply.

In a corner of the room Eda was still playing with her tiny gray kitten. Via and her new mother were still standing by the big mantel hand in hand.

Their attitude gave Jeanette another pang of annoyance as she and her father entered the room. She would never forgive Via's desertion of her for her stepmother, especially of late when she needed her sympathy and affection as never before.

Mr. Colter, as if he were physically weary, dropped into the big chair Lina offered him.

"What is it, father? Tell us at once!" Lina demanded, seating herself beside him on the arm of the chair and holding on to him for support.

As if she were a little jealous, Eda deserted her kitten and seated herself in his lap.

Upon the two figures across from him—his wife, who had been Jacqueline Ralston, and Via—Mr. Colter's gaze rested.

Purposely Jeanette removed herself from the group. Crossing again to the window, she made a pretense of looking out as her father had done a half hour before.

In much the same words he had used with Jeanette, Mr. Colter told the other members of his family what had occurred.

"Why hard upon me? Being poor? Jim, dear, please remember and be fair. You know how little I care about money and how impossible I find it to run this big place in the quiet fashion Jean did. Lina knows, and knows because I am always asking her advice and help.

"If only you realized how relieved we are to know it is only worry over money matters that has been troubling you of late! The girls and I have been waiting for you to tell us. While you and Jeanette were outdoors we made up our minds that we would not, could not wait much longer. You see, we have something we want to tell. Suppose for the next six months or more we rent the big house and move over to the old lodge, Rainbow Lodge. It is still the home I seem to love best, even if I should not confess it."

"What do you feel, Jeanette? We have been making plans while you and father were out of the room. If father agrees we are to go over to the old lodge in the morning and select our own rooms. We are to do most of our work and leave the servants here for the people who rent the big place."

"It is a very nice plan, Lina, safe and sane and comfortable, yet it does not appeal to me. I said this afternoon that I expected to go away to school. Father does not see this as I do and so far has not given his consent. He must change his mind."

Jeanette looked directly at her stepmother and their eyes met for the first time in many days.

"I never have been happy at home since father re-married. I have been less happy of late. Perhaps Mrs. Colter knows why."

The arm about Jeanette's younger sister tightened. Jeanette felt a twinge of jealousy.

Via was staring at her with an expression of astonishment, even of resentment. The older girl flinched. She and Via had never a quarrel or misunderstanding before in their lives.

"Jim, if Jeanette really wants so much to leave home, why, if you are not seriously opposed, perhaps you could arrange it."

Jeanette moved forward a few steps. She stood now in the midst of the family group, harmonious save for her presence.

"Thank you," she announced, with strained politeness. "I don't want father to send me to school unless he can afford it. I cannot help understanding that you may intend to pay my expenses, and although I appreciate why you would be glad to have me away, this I could not accept. Good night."

ASSOCIATIONS

The windows of the Rainbow Lodge stood open to the sun and wind. In the bedrooms once occupied by the old Ranch Girls the new Ranch Girls were arranging their possessions. Yet only a week had gone by since their decision to rent the big house and already it was being prepared to receive tenants.

Mrs. Perry, who did not desire to continue a guest of Peter Stevens, nor to leave Cecil in order to return to her Long Island home, had been delighted with the opportunity.

She had telegraphed a number of friends to join her and shortly expected to fill Rainbow Castle with guests.

At this early hour of the morning Lina Colter was folding and putting away her clothes in the drawers of an old-fashioned pine bureau. She had carried a number of things over by hand in order to avoid the trouble of packing and unpacking so promptly.

During the summer months Lina's appearance had altered for the better. She was prettier and less serious looking than upon the afternoon when the arrow of silver had appeared out of space. Until this summer her tastes and inclinations had kept her too often indoors. She had studied and read too much to be good for her health, preferring books to human beings.

Her stepmother's influence and her growing friendship with Cecil Perry had altered this. Different as were their tastes and temperaments, she and her stepmother were developing a delightful relation. They were helping each other in various ways without thought of the difference in their age and positions.

Moreover, for the first time in their girlhood, one of their boy acquaintances was open in his declaration of liking her better than Jeanette. As Cecil Perry wished to learn to ride and swim, shoot, play tennis, Lina had done her best to be useful. Not so skillful at any sport as Jeanette, Cecil had preferred her aid to Jeanette's half scornful attitude.

At present Lina had chosen to occupy the room at the Rainbow Lodge that had been her own mother's. About the walls she could see faded pictures of the four original Ranch Girls. These she intended to tear down and replace with her own and her sisters' photographs. In the pauses of her work Lina kept studying them, finding the idea of destroying the old relics more difficult than she had anticipated.

Here was a photograph of her own stepmother, then Jacqueline Ralston, mounted on her pony. Here was another, standing at the edge of the Rainbow Mine, the origin of their fortune.

In another group were Jacqueline and Frieda Ralston, Olive in an Indian costume, taken soon after her discovery by the Ranch Girls and her arrival at the ranch, Jean, who was their cousin and adopted sister.

As this especial group picture was faded almost past recognition, after staring at it, Lina slowly tore it off the wall, tossing it aside into a waste-paper basket. She and Eda were to occupy this bedroom. The lodge was not large enough to allow each member of the family a separate room. Not pleased with the prospect, she and the other girls were accepting it as a part of their sacrifice. Via and Jeanette were to be together.

At present Lina could hear Jeanette moving about in the room adjoining her own. Her stepmother was to occupy the room which had been hers as a girl. At the present moment she was downstairs in the old living-room of the lodge, seeing that it was put in order.

As a matter of fact Jack was actually standing before the big, old-fashioned fireplace, with her hands thrust into the pockets of her corduroy coat. Her eyes were filled with tears.

It was not easy coming back to the old lodge where she had lived as a girl with a family of half-grown daughters, who were not really her own.

These first weeks and months of making friends with her stepdaughters in her new relation to them, Jack had found as difficult as any in her career. So far as Lina and Via were concerned, she was no longer nervous or overanxious. She was devoted to them and they seemed to care for her. Via's health was not so strong as it should have been and a matter of worry to her family, but there was no immediate cause for unhappiness.

Eda was still a child with a little half-wild streak in her, part shyness and oddly fascinating. The time would surely come when she and Eda would be drawn close together.

Jeanette was the problem. If she had been difficult from the beginning, she was more a problem now.

What troubled Jack at this instant, however, was not Jeanette's weakness or faults of character, but her own. From the outset she had not resented Jeanette's antagonism toward her, understanding and hoping in time to overcome it. Since the day of their riding contest, she realized that she could no longer like Jeanette. Probably she could not be fair to her.

Jeanette had revealed the traits of character she most disliked. In a crisis she had not been honorable. This did not seem possible in her father's daughter, yet with days and weeks in which to confess her fault, she had shown no sign of wishing to speak, not the slightest inclination toward repentance.

Jeanette's one expressed wish had been to turn her back upon her family and friends and completely change her environment. By this she expected to escape any consequences of her own misdoing.

Was she altogether sure of this? Had there never been moments when she had glimpsed an altered expression upon Jeanette's face, an unconscious drooping of her shoulders, a more wistful curve to her lips.

Gazing about the old lodge sitting-room, still filled with so many recollections of her own girlhood and the girlhood of the former Ranch Girls, Jack, now the wife of her former guardian, was more concerned with the problem of her own nature than with the faults of her stepdaughter.

In the last ten days she realized that she no longer liked Jeanette, nor wished her to continue a member of their household. No longer did she desire to gain her friendship, or to bring her to a different state of mind.

It was her chief weakness of character to feel an insufficient charity toward the human beings who offended against her own code. If Jeanette had no sense of honor she would never be able to teach her to acquire it.

Within the next few moments Jack was expecting her husband to join her. Should she confess to him that she did not wish Jeanette to remain at home? Should she tell him that the problem was too great for her and was making her unhappy? He would at once consent that Jeanette go away to school and even allow her to pay Jeanette's expenses rather than see her disturbed. In their original discussion of the subject this side of the question had not occurred to him.

The figure on horseback was not her husband, whom she looked for, but Cecil Perry.

A moment later he began calling, not Lina's name as she expected, but Jeanette's.

A few moments after, still waiting for her husband and watching idly from her window, Mrs. Colter saw Cecil and Jeanette start off together in the direction of the big house. Cecil was leading his horse.

NEW FRIENDS

Cecil Perry and Jeanette were walking along the path that led from the lodge to the larger house.

The young fellow flushed, in spite of the fact that his fair skin was already reddened from the past two months spent out of doors.

"Why shouldn't I be, Jeanette? You have always been candid with me since the beginning of our acquaintance. I don't see why a boy should not be as frank with a girl as she with him. You know I like Lina better than I do you. You never have made a pretense of liking me especially. You thought when we met that I was spoiled and effeminate. I am not sure you were not right. Still, I did not enjoy the idea then and I do not enjoy it now."

"You have changed a good deal for the better, in my opinion, Cecil, not that I suppose it makes any difference to you," Jeanette answered in a more humble tone than she was accustomed to employing. "About your mother's wish to have me help entertain her guests by riding with them and showing them the different objects of interest in the neighborhood, don't regret that she has chosen to ask me rather than Lina. Lina would not have liked the task. She does not care a great deal for strangers. Besides, she is so much happier at home than I am. I need to be away for everybody else's sake as well as my own. If your mother really wants me to do what you say I can't tell you how grateful and glad I will be."

With a level frown Jeanette drew her straight brows together. Her color departed, her eyes became questioning and frightened.

"See here, Cecil, I said a moment ago that you were extremely candid with me, but perhaps after all you are not. There is something I wish to ask you. Do you know anything about me that of late has changed your original opinion of me so that you think it would not be wise for your mother to trust me?"

The girl drew a deep breath, which seemed one of relief. At last she had spoken. She had been dreading this since the unfortunate day when she had allowed her desire for success and her dislike of her stepmother to overthrow the principles she held dear. Yet she had not intended to question Cecil Perry, of all persons, until this instant.

"I don't know what you are talking about, Jeanette. Certainly there is no reason why mother should not trust you! I don't see what trust has to do with the fact that she took a great fancy to you when she met you the other afternoon and wants to see more of you. She did not say this, but I have an idea that she is interested in having you near her so as to know you better. Besides, I'll be glad to cast some of the entertaining business on you. Two or three people have turned up already and mother is hoping we may be able to move into your house this week."

"Do you mean your mother has friends with her now? Must I meet them as well? I don't know what is the matter, I never used to be embarrassed and shall try not to be to-day."

Jeanette straightened her shoulders, threw back her head and the color she had lost a moment before returned.

After all, she was relieved. Cecil could know nothing of her mistake (Jeanette preferred to think of what she had done as a mistake) else would he have answered as he had? And had his answer been different, would she have confessed?

Seeing a group of strangers standing on the veranda of their big house, Jeanette stifled a sensation of resentment. Already they appeared as if they were in actual possession of her home. Personally she had no feeling of sentiment for the Rainbow Lodge. The old house seemed to her small and weather-beaten and unattractive after their splendid, big home. It was natural, perhaps, that her father and stepmother should feel an attachment for the lodge, as they had known it so long, but why should Lina and Via pretend to care for it? The answer, of course, was that the other girls were under their stepmother's influence.

Jeanette hoped her father would soon recover his fortunes sufficiently to be able to return to the big house. She wished this notwithstanding the fact that she expected to be in the East at school. No thought of relinquishing her intention had occurred to Jeanette. She was merely awaiting a more fortunate moment. Jeanette felt the same pleasurable sense of attraction she had experienced at their original meeting, when Mrs. Perry, separating herself from her friends, took hold of her hand.

A moment after she found herself being introduced to Mr. and Mrs. John Barret and to a girl and boy near her own age.

As a matter of fact, Margery Barret was a year older than Jeanette, and her brother a little more than two years older.

Scarcely could Jeanette restrain an exclamation of satisfaction over their meeting. No one could understand how she had been longing to acquire new friends outside her own environment.

Margery and Mason Barret were from New York and had been traveling with their mother and father in the West for their summer vacation. For this reason they had been able to arrive sooner at the Rainbow Ranch than Mrs. Perry's other friends.

Apparently with the desire to make the newcomers feel more at home, Mrs. Perry remarked unexpectedly:

"Jeanette, won't you tell Mr. and Mrs. Barret and Margery and Mason of your discovery of the silver arrow and the club you have formed in the neighborhood? Perhaps you and Cecil may allow Margery and Mason to attend your meetings, even if it is not possible they should be members."

Each time she told the story of the finding of the silver arrow it became more of a mystery. There had been so many other things to absorb them at the outset she and her sisters had given little thought to the origin of the arrow. Was it not pleasanter and more romantic to consider that the arrow had sped from the bow of some unknown winged messenger? Now when Jeanette told the story she would like to have been able to offer some explanation. People always inquired who it was that had shot the arrow into the depth of the ravine.

"No one knows whence the arrow came, and I suppose this is one of the reasons why we are all so interested. Perhaps some day, when one of us wins the reward of courage, the mystery may be solved."

"Here's an idea, Mater. Why not send for a target and arrows and let the members of the Silver Arrow club attempt to learn archery? I tried once and was a duffer at it, but it was fun. There is a big lawn here at the side of the house and I don't believe Mr. and Mrs. Colter would object to our target practice."

"Of course they would not mind. It would be wonderful. Stupid for no one of us to have proposed the idea before!"

THE PAST

"Jeanette, if you have nothing else to do to-day suppose we take a ride together. I have scarcely seen you alone for weeks except at night when you are too tired to talk. You have no other engagement, have you?"

She and Via were standing out on the veranda of the lodge soon after breakfast on an August morning.

"No, Via, I have nothing especial to do. Everybody is tired at the big house from our excursion to the Indian reservation yesterday. I think the Barrets were disappointed. They expected to find the Indians as they were centuries ago. They looked entirely too matter-of-fact and comfortable; the men were sitting outside their tents smoking and sleeping, the women cooking and scolding the children. Nothing was in the least picturesque or romantic. It is only Eastern people who expect to find romance among our Western Indians at present. They appear to be under the impression that they live as they did in the old days of Lina's far-off legend of the 'Silver Arrow.'

"Why not, Jeanette? I am not ill. I get very weary of people behaving as if I were. Couldn't we take our lunch and ride down to the bottom of the ravine where we found the silver arrow? I never have been there from that day to this. Besides, I want to have a nice long, intimate talk with you such as we used to have."

"Certainly, Via dear, if you wish it. I have been thinking of late you did not care for me as you once did. Will you see about lunch, and I'll look after our horses? There is a shorter ride down into the ravine than the one we took when we first made the discovery. Now the underbrush has been cleared away, we can ride straight down the path we came out by. Don't say anything to Eda or Lina; for once it will be pleasanter to be just to ourselves!"

Soon after, still in the early morning sunshine, two of the new Ranch Girls were riding slowly down the steep path which led to the small lake in its bed among the rocks below.

They talked little. The riding required all their attention and neither were they in the mood for conversation. Both girls wore old riding-costumes of brown khaki bleached to gold by the sun.

Physically Jeanette Colter never had looked better. Mentally she was also more serene. These past two weeks she had been spending most of the time away from her family, having a hurried breakfast with them and an occasional dinner. Usually she was with her new friends who were occupying her own old home.

Mrs. Perry was a woman of sudden fancies to which she was apt to give free play. From the first Jeanette had attracted her strongly. Now as the days went by she grew more and more interested in Jeanette's graceful carriage, her promise of unusual beauty as she grew older. Her physical prowess also attracted the older woman, who was altogether unlike her and had been raised in a more conventional atmosphere. She always had wanted a daughter and perhaps for this reason had kept Cecil in surroundings that were not always wise.

Moreover, Jeanette had conceived a young girl's admiration for a pretty woman a good many years older than herself. She also believed that at last she had found the new friends she secretly had been longing for. If Cecil Perry openly preferred Lina, Mason Barret was more friendly with her than with any girl he had met in the neighborhood. Whenever it was possible they rode beside each other in their outdoor excursions through the country. In any games, tennis, or croquet, or whatever it might be, they played partners.

In Margery Barret, Jeanette believed she had discovered the friend who represents the ideal of every girl in the world. At present in Jeanette's eyes Margery was perfection. Never before had she a girl friend for whom she cherished any deep admiration, or more than an everyday affection. She and Martha Putnam and a half dozen other girls in the neighborhood had grown up together, played, quarreled and made friends. They were without illusions concerning one another and without any sense of the delightful mystery that awaits the forming of new friendships. Until of late her own sisters had occupied a more important part in her daily life. With them she had found her chief congeniality. Via was right, recently she had not cared so much for them or their society.

To-day as they traveled down the ravine, she found herself wishing Margery Barret were with her instead of Via. They had been longing to have a confidential conversation together. Already Jeanette had confided her own purpose. Tired of home and of the West, she intended to go East to school in the autumn. Margery had been for two years at a boarding school on Long Island, so there could be no other plan than that Jeanette induce her father to allow her to attend the same school.

Under the circumstances one can see how much the two girls had to discuss and arrange.

Hearing Via singing a quiet little song behind her as they moved slowly along, Jeanette had the grace to feel ashamed of herself.

Of course she adored Via, perhaps more than any one in the world at present. She was disappointed in her father and estranged from her former devotion to him. He might have been willing to make more of an effort to permit her to go East to school. They could not be so poor that an ordinary expense could not be met. To say that she and Lina might go later meant nothing, as the future did not interest her. It was the next few months, the next year that counted. From uncongenial surroundings and people she must make her escape.

"Jeanette dear, do you see? There lies the enchanted lake below us. It is more beautiful than I remembered it!"

Broken bits of twigs fallen from the bushes that grew almost out of sheer rocks, Jeanette gathered and laid in a pile. As Via unpacked their box of lunch she lighted a fire more for the pleasure of seeing the small aspiring flames than for any actual need. The day was warm and they preferred the iced tea brought in a vacuum bottle to anything hot that could be boiled over their miniature fire.

Yet both girls kept the fire ablaze even after luncheon was over. Now and then one or the other would rise and wander about the foot of the cliff or about the edges of the lake, returning with a meagre supply of fuel.

By and by Jeanette spread out the blanket she had carried under her saddle and lay down.

"I am more tired than I realized, Via dear. Let the silly little fire go out if you wish, I intend taking a nap. I have been having a wonderful time lately with Mrs. Perry and her friends, but it has been more fatiguing than I realized. You are a peaceful child, I am glad you asked me to come with you to-day; when Lina and I are together we do nothing but argue."

When she awakened she only half lifted her lids. Her younger sister, seated only a few feet away, was gazing gravely at her.

The light from the sun slanted across a break between the tall cliffs, touching the younger girl's fair hair with streaks of light that made it appear half silver, half gold.

"Via's eyes were the color of certain shades in autumn leaves, a kind of coppery brown," Jeanette was thinking idly, before she was aware of the expression with which they were regarding her.

In her sister's expression she believed by accident she had caught a glimpse into a mirror from which of late she had been turning away. It was not the admiring look of the younger sister toward the older that had been Via's lifelong attitude toward her. The eyes showed a kind of hurt suspicion, almost distrust.

Instantly Jeanette recalled the fact that she had believed Via had some obscure knowledge of her own failure to win the riding contest fairly. Of late she almost had forgotten the occurrence herself, concluding that no one had observed her action because no one had spoken of it.

"Why do you look at me like that, Via?" she demanded sharply, sitting up. "I have not been asleep for the last few moments, but have been watching you staring at me."

Never before could she remember speaking to her younger sister in such a tone or with such a sense of annoyance. Few persons ever spoke harshly to Via. Besides her gentleness she had an unusual dignity and poise.

"Was I looking at you strangely, Jeanette? I did not know it and beg your pardon if I have made you angry. I confess I was thinking of you. Perhaps you do not care to hear that I was thinking how much you had changed since the day the silver arrow fell so unexpectedly at our feet."

Via continued: "I was trying to make up my mind the real reason. Surely the silver arrow could not have brought you evil fortune rather than good! You were first to touch it and the arrow belonged to you until you decided to form a club and offer it as the prize."

Via smiled. Her smile always changed her face completely, affording it a beauty she did not at other times possess.

"Of course I do not think the arrow is in any way responsible, Jeanette! I do think, however, that you first changed because of your prejudice against father's marrying again. Later on there was something else. I never have understood exactly; it occurred only a few weeks ago. Since then you have not cared a great deal for any member of your family. I have watched you and——"

Jeanette's eyes flashed. Nothing is simpler than a pretense of anger to save one from an accusation in which there is truth.

"I hate being spied upon, Via, and you are well aware of it. Of course I have realized that you have been watching me and thinking things about me. It is you have changed toward me, not I toward you." The older girl shrugged her shoulders. "It does not make any difference; if you can be influenced against me, I had just as soon you would be. Of course I know who is responsible. Mrs. Colter, or Jack, as you and Lina absurdly call her, never has liked me any better than I do her. I am not in the dark. I know she has done everything in her power to estrange all of you from me, including father. Suppose we do not discuss the subject. I don't know how I am going to be able to arrange it, but I shall not remain at home much longer."

"You are unfair, Jeanette," said Via. "The worst of it is that you really know you are being unfair. This is what has troubled me about you of late, dear. You used to have a greater sense of justice and fair play than any one of us, and Lina and Eda and I always depended upon this characteristic in you more than any other. Since the day of the riding contest——"

Jeanette suddenly arose to her feet and stood close beside her sister, pointing ahead.

Bounding down a side of the cliff they beheld a young Indian boy of about sixteen or seventeen. He was the color of light bronze, with strong, regular features and straight black hair, falling below his ears. He wore fringed leather trousers, a gayly colored shirt and about his head the circle of feathers.

Indians were not unusual figures in the neighborhood of the Rainbow Ranch. With a group of visitors to Mrs. Perry Jeanette had paid a visit to one of the nearby Indian reservations only the day before.

What especially interested the two girls at present was that the young Indian carried a bow in one hand. Thrust into the belt about his waist were half a dozen crudely fashioned Indian arrows.

"Are we awake, Via? Is this 'White Heart,' the hero of Lina's legend of the Silver Arrow? It is too impossible to be true!"

The young Indian was searching for something in and out among the hidden crevices of the rocks.

The instant he saw the two girls he turned and, climbing up the face of a cliff as easily and swiftly as he had descended, disappeared.

Jeanette followed him with her blessing, deciding that there would be no further opportunity for an intimate conversation between Via and herself. They must go home at once. Under the present circumstances her father would not desire them to be out alone.

FAVORING WINDS

Via was ill for a few days after their luncheon in the canyon and Jeanette felt the family attitude unfavorable.

No one uttered a reproach, so perhaps the idea was an imaginary one. Certainly Via had proposed the trip herself and no one had opposed her. However, finding that Via did not require her presence as a nurse and actually seemed to prefer her stepmother or Lina, Jeanette felt no special compunction at remaining away.

There was nothing serious the matter. Via had only taken cold, but because she was frail special attention was paid her small ailments.

So, after a few moments, conversation each morning and an affectionate inquiry, Jeanette gladly hurried off to the big house and her new friends.

She did not desire to be alone with Via again for some time. She had no thought that Via was definitely aware of her own failure to play fair. What she feared and resented was her younger sister's strange faculty for appreciating the atmosphere in which human beings lived. Oftentimes she guessed their thoughts and moods before they were fully conscious of them themselves.

Moreover, life at the big house was certainly more entertaining and worth while at present than staying at home with one's own family or sharing in their amusements.

The day following the one spent with her younger sister in the depth of the ravine, Margery Barret and Jeanette managed to arrange a long-desired ride together, with no one accompanying them.

Upon this ride Margery was able to confide a piece of news she had been longing to tell Jeanette for twelve hours.

"It was quite by accident, Jeanette, I had no thought of any such consequence," she murmured impressively, as she and her companion moved slowly along beside each other, walking their horses so their conversation might not be disturbed. "I told Mrs. Perry that you wished to go East to school with me this fall. She agreed that it was a delightful idea and might be extremely good for you. Then I told her your father did not feel he could afford the expense, because of his recent business difficulties."

Although no other human beings were in sight at this moment and only a wide stretch of country about them, Margery lowered her voice still more.

"What do you think, Jeanette? Mrs. Perry said that it would give her the greatest possible pleasure to be permitted to pay your expenses. The truth is she has taken the most absurd fancy to you, such a fancy that I should think Cecil would be jealous, but to do him justice he does not appear to be in the least."

Margery leaned from her horse in order to give Jeanette's arm a gentle pressure.

"Wouldn't it be wonderful, dear, if your father would agree? Mrs. Perry is so rich and generous you need not mind, the pleasure would be greater for her than for you. I am so romantic I have even been thinking that she might want to adopt you some day and leave you a portion of her fortune. You need not laugh, Jeanette Colter, I only wish I were in your place. I have been struggling to induce Mrs. Perry to take a fancy to me for years! She is sweet and kind to me, but that is all! About you she has said several times that she would give a great deal to have you as her daughter."

Jeanette sat more erectly on her pony, her face changing color in characteristic fashion.

"I am afraid Mrs. Perry hardly realizes what she says. If she knew me better I am the last person in the world she would desire to have near her. I trust that she will not ask my own family for a certificate of character; no one of them would give it me."

The ranch land this afternoon appeared enchantingly lovely. The alfalfa fields were in full bloom, swimming with hosts of purple clover. The grain was ripening quickly and was now pure gold. In the waste places the desert midsummer wild-flowers were blooming, rose and white and cornflower blue.

If her father would agree to allow her to accept Mrs. Perry's offer, Jeanette felt that her own pride would not stand in the way. Some day they would be able to return the money. Mrs. Perry would not care for this arrangement, but could not object, since it would make conditions easier for them all. Thus the desire of her heart would be granted at once, when all desires of the heart should be granted.

During the remainder of the ride, and in the course of every hour afterwards when she was not asleep, Jeanette dreamed of this possibility.

One afternoon Mrs. Perry shyly approached the subject to her. She confessed that she did not enjoy the idea of speaking to Mr. Colter, requesting Jeanette to prepare the way for her.

Now as the days passed by the psychological moment never seemed to arrive. Closely Jeanette watched her father. Still he appeared harassed by business troubles, spending less time with his family than usual.

If this drew the other three girls closer to their stepmother for amusement and sympathy, Jeanette found her new friends at Rainbow Castle more and more absorbing.

Never had the neighborhood been half so gay as since Mrs. Perry rented the big house.

She was a society woman and not happy unless she were surrounded by people and entertaining.

Following Cecil's suggestion, a target had been set up on the left side of the lawn and here the members of the Club of the Silver Arrow were free to practice at any hour. The target was at some distance off, since archery was a new sport among the young people and the flights of the arrows more than a little uncertain.

The older guests, following their usual custom, were on the big veranda of the front lawn, leaving the younger club members entirely free from their society.

Flinging off the pink muslin hat she had been wearing, Martha Putnam wiped a few drops of perspiration from her face, sighed and then laughed.

"Jeanette Colter," she called across to the other girl, sitting on the ground a few yards away, "I have been thanking the kind fates all afternoon that we did not decide to award the mysterious silver arrow to the member of our club who became the best archer. After my efforts this afternoon I am certain that I am less apt to succeed as an archer than to prove myself the most courageous of us all. By the way, don't you think we have been singularly lacking in opportunities to display our courageous natures this summer? Jeanette won the riding contest, but no one has accomplished anything else exciting or dramatic. During other summers people in the neighborhood have nearly drowned in one of the swimming pools, or horses have run away. There have been accidents that might offer opportunities for heroism."

Martha repressed a slight yawn of fatigue and extended her hand for the iced tea Cecil Perry was at this instant offering her.

"I do think it will be embarrassing if no one wins the silver arrow this summer after all our plans."

"Sorry I cannot accommodate you, Martha, by risking my neck so you could have the glory and distinction of saving me. I might try to drown in Rainbow Creek when you were near, but it would be difficult, the water is so shallow at present. Want to walk over toward the creek with me and see me make the attempt? Rescuing me would undoubtedly spoil your pink frock," Cecil Perry challenged.

"Oh, I was bluffing so far as I am concerned. I have no courage of any kind. Just the same I have sometimes wondered whether the silver arrow is to be bestowed on the one of us who displays the greatest physical courage or the greatest moral courage?"

"Ask us another nice, easy question, Martha," Eric Lawton demanded teasingly, "only do wait until we have partaken of refreshments. I won't feel equal to answering until then."

"Perhaps you need not trouble to reply, Eric. None of us need struggle to win the award. I told you that Via and I beheld an Indian youth searching for something near the magic lake at the foot of the ravine where the arrow fell. It may be he was 'White Heart,' the reincarnation of Lina's legend, who has returned to look for the lost arrow. In that case I think it our duty to return the silver arrow to him," Jeanette Colter remarked.

"You must have been dreaming, Jeanette, you and Via," Lina remonstrated. "I read you a legend out of a book; such improbable things do not occur in real life."

Jeanette's eyebrows met together in the fashion that revealed either unusual feeling on her part or else an idea that must be given serious thought.

"Nonsense, Lina, it is in real life where improbable things do take place, otherwise no one would know how to write of them.

"So far as the silver arrow is concerned, I think it might be a good thing for us all to surrender the mysterious arrow to its owner. Any unusual display of courage by one of us might have disastrous consequences. I agree with Martha, however, we must decide whether the silver arrow is the prize for physical or moral courage. My own idea is we should ask for both."

"Oh, Jeanette, do please let us talk of something more frivolous, it is such a perfect summer afternoon," one of the other girls protested. "I don't know what has happened to you, but of late you seem so changed."

"Hope I have changed for the better," Jeanette answered lightly, though her cheeks flushed.

OUT OF THE DARK

With her eyes smarting and her cheeks burning, for hours Jeanette lay wide awake.

She was alone in her bedroom. After her illness Via had moved into the adjoining room which previously had been reserved at the lodge for guests.

The evening before Jeanette finally decided to discuss with her father the subject so near her heart. The summer days were passing swiftly. Already Mr. and Mrs. Barret were beginning to plan to return to the East, taking Margery and their son to be ready for the opening of school.

Between his mother and his guardian and Cecil Perry the question was being argued: Should Cecil go back to a preparatory school with the idea of entering college, or remain in the West, purchase a ranch and become a ranchman.

His mother favored the first suggestion. Fascinated she might be temporarily with the freer, wider outdoor life of the West, but her interests and more intimate friendships were in the East where she had spent all her previous time. For Cecil she desired a literary or artistic career. With their wealth he need be in no hurry to acquire money or fame. The fact that Cecil had changed so completely with only a few months' residence in a different environment was a daily surprise to his mother. He wished to become a ranchman and his guardian upheld him in his desire. Cecil had grown older, stronger, more self-reliant since his visit, his mother recognized. Her real objection to his remaining in the West was chiefly the enforced separation from her. At present her plan was to stay on at the Rainbow Castle until shortly before the Christmas holidays. Then she would go back, open her New York house and have Jeanette Colter as one of her Christmas guests.

This arrangement, dear to any girl's heart, had been overthrown this night by what Jeanette considered her father's obstinacy and false pride.

In their interview during the evening he had refused positively even to consider seriously Mrs. Perry's offer.

"Do you suppose for a moment, Jeanette, that I would decline to permit your stepmother to pay your expenses at school and would then accept the favor from an entire stranger?"

"If it were absolutely necessary for your health or happiness, perhaps I would agree to see things differently. I have thought over the entire situation and decided it is better that you remain at home another year. Had you not brought up the subject, I should not have spoken of it for the present. Now I wish you to realize that I am displeased by your state of mind, as well as your behavior. It is my wish and my intention that you continue to live in your own home until you acquire a new attitude toward your stepmother. If you do not appreciate her, the fault lies not in her but in you. Say and think nothing more concerning this boarding-school project. I will not discuss the question with you again."

Small wonder that Jeanette was in a state of bitter and intense rebellion against all family authority, especially her own.

She had not dared openly to defy her father. He was a man of quiet, firm will, a manager of men for many years, men of strange histories and temperaments who had come to live and work on the Rainbow Ranch. Yet neither had Jeanette submitted. His own daughter, a portion of this same strong will she had inherited from him.

To-night as she lay awake staring ahead in the darkness her thoughts were not engaged with the idea of submission; rather was she planning how to accomplish her own end.

Should she tell Mrs. Perry of her father's refusal? In this case, and in defiance of his authority, would Mrs. Perry still be willing to come to her assistance? In spite of the affection she undoubtedly felt for her, Jeanette feared not.

Could she conceal from Mrs. Perry her father's point of view? This appeared still more impossible, since in all probability her father would thank Mrs. Perry for her kindness and at the same time decline to acquiesce.

As she lay quietly in bed totally unable to sleep, Jeanette seemed to be facing a stone wall in which there was no opening or loophole of escape. She was not old enough to realize there may be invisible ways around or through such walls which time alone shows us.

Sleeping more soundly than usual, she found herself waking with a sense of depression more profound than before. As she sat up in bed her eyes were burning uncomfortably and an instant later she was struggling for breath.

She gazed about her. Even in the darkness she could discern that the atmosphere of the room showed a queer haze. A smell penetrated her nostrils and her senses awoke. The room was filling with smoke.

At once Jeanette got into her slippers and dressing gown. She had the type of mind that responds best to sudden demands.

When she and her father had sat late arguing with each other in the living-room of the lodge, as the night was cool, a small fire had been burning. One of the windows stood open. No one feared intruders and the windows were rarely closed unless the weather demanded it.

The wind may have blown a spark from the fire and a blaze started in the living-room, or the trouble may have originated in the kitchen.

Subconsciously was Jeanette discussing this problem with herself as she rushed into the adjoining room to waken Via. If she and Via were less intimate than formerly, Via was still her first thought.

Remaining long enough to see that her sister was fully aroused and to tie a wet towel about her mouth, Jeanette then fled to Lina and Eda.

Already Jack was becoming aroused to a sensation of discomfort and foreboding. She was out of bed and awake as she beheld Jeanette's outline.

She and her stepmother ran at once toward the smaller connecting bedroom. For the first time Jeanette had the sensation of stifling, of fighting her way through a thick gathering of choking gray clouds.

Mr. Colter slept in this smaller room and no sound had come from him. At present his wife and daughter found themselves wondering why he had not awakened and warned them. Always he had been the shelter and strong force in every crisis in their lives.

Reaching him first and catching him firmly by the shoulder, Jack struggled to arouse him. She found his body already limp and inert. The room was become a thick cloud. Located immediately above the fireplace in the living-room, the smoke probably had penetrated here first and then spread into the other parts of the house.

"We must get your father out of here, Jeanette, I cannot waken him," Jack announced, her throat so filled with smoke she could scarcely speak.

Jeanette somehow made her way into the bathroom, returning with damp towels. One she tied about her own nostrils and lips, another she adjusted about her father's face, the third she offered her stepmother.

They were both strong, but he was a man six feet in height, big-boned and muscular.

Nevertheless, half supporting, half carrying him, they got him to the door and through the short hall and down the stairs.

Neither the woman nor girl knew how they managed. Although the fire actually had started in the living-room, downstairs the smoke was not so heavy.

Moreover, the front door stood open and Lina rushed indoors to help them, having spied the struggling figures through the gloom.

Outside Eda stood gazing with wide-open, terrified blue eyes at the Rainbow Lodge. No one else had been aroused, as no one else was sleeping in the house.

Placing the still inert figure at a safe distance from the house, Mrs. Colter and Jeanette drew in deep breaths of the August night air.

Jeanette remained close to her father. She was suffering from deep waves of compunction for her state of mind toward him a few hours before. When would he speak or move?

Mrs. Colter was closer to the old lodge. Lina, with presence of mind at last aroused, had run toward the rear of the house to ring the alarm bell.

"Via! Where is Via?" she exclaimed. "I have been waiting and watching for her. Every one else is safe, only Via."

There was no answer, no sign of the delicate figure, the wistful face of the Ranch Girl whom her stepmother and entire family loved best.

With a swift movement the older woman disentangled herself from the little girl's arms.

Jeanette, leaning over her father, did not immediately observe this. He was trying to speak.

Jeanette felt a thrill of pleasure. Her father's first thought had been for them, not for his wife! She could not know that he believed himself to be addressing Jack.

What had become of her stepmother and where was Via? Why had she failed to realize until this instant that she had not seen Via since she aroused her from bed and bade her run swiftly down the smoke-filled hall?

"Eda, where is Via? You must have seen her!" cried Jeanette, clutching the little girl's shoulders with hot, nervous hands.

"She has never come out. I have been calling and calling, and waiting and waiting." Her voice rose to a thin wail. "Mother has gone to find her," she added, with a slightly happier note.

At some distance she could see the outlines of dark figures and hear the pattering of a horse's hoofs. Lina's bell, which she continued ringing, was bringing friends to their aid at last.

Even as she felt the heat of the burning house Jeanette shivered. Her courage had deserted her. She had done her share. Had she not warned every member of her family and seen them safely out of doors?

No, there was Via. She had been warned, but something had occurred. Perhaps she had fainted or become stifled from the smoke.

Well, her stepmother was searching for her and the lodge was small, so by this time she must have been discovered. Her stepmother had not hesitated to go back into the house a second time. Everybody agreed she always had been singularly courageous and Jeanette never had made any such claim for herself.

Jeanette flung up her arms over her head in a curious gesture. With her short hair, her gallant figure and look of high resolve of courage gained not by impulse but by prayer, she might have been a young Joan of Arc. A moment she stood, then dashed into the burning building.

The voice was Cecil Perry's. He was standing near, bending over her. Her head lay in Mrs. Perry's lap. A wet handkerchief was gently wiping the smoke and grime from her face.

About them Jeanette seemed to see a small multitude of friends and neighbors and the men employed on the Rainbow Ranch.

"Mother and Via?" she inquired, not conscious that she was using the name she had vowed to herself never to employ.

"They are better off than you are. You are not to worry," Cecil answered comfortingly and with a new note of respect in his voice that Jeanette never had heard before.

VALOR

"The Silver Arrow is to be yours, Jeanette. The club has decided without a single dissenting voice."

The girls were out of doors. They were not in the vicinity of the big house, nor of the old lodge which was now a burned-out pile of charred logs. They were hovering about the front porch of the ranch house where the men who were employed on the Rainbow Ranch formerly had lived.

On the day after the fire the men at the ranch house had offered to vacate their own quarters and allow the members of the Colter family to move in until they could make more satisfactory arrangements.

Gladly Mr. Colter accepted. There were tents in which the ranchmen could make their temporary quarters until the coming of cold weather. By that time they would have found a new house or moved back into one of their own. Mrs. Colter desired that the old lodge be restored, but the question had not yet been finally settled.

No one of them appeared especially depressed by the disaster, although coming at a particularly trying time when the family finances were low and the large house rented until Christmas. Still, no one had been injured. At first Mrs. Perry insisted the entire family live with her; later she offered to surrender the lease on the house if Mr. Colter wished it.

This afternoon, to assure their friends that they were neither uncomfortable nor unhappy at the ranch house, Mrs. Colter was entertaining the entire club of the Silver Arrow together with a few older friends.

At this moment she and Mrs. Perry were standing outside the group of younger people.

"But, Jeanette, you must not refuse," Lina protested. "You understood that the honor was to be bestowed upon the individual member of the club who accomplished the most courageous deed during the summer. You helped make this decision and possess no power to change it. The club was to ask the advice of a few older friends and then vote on the question. We have followed the rules and there is no appeal. The fact that you warned us that the lodge was on fire and then went back a second time to help mother and Via was a courageous act. Jeanette dear, I don't think you need feel you have no right to the arrow."

"Then why does mother—Mrs. Colter, of course, I mean—not receive the award? She returned first to search for Via and found her; they were more than halfway down the stairs when I reached them."

"Jeanette, Mrs. Colter is not a member of the Club of the Silver Arrow and you therefore have no rival," Eric Lawton, the president of the club, announced with an admiring glance toward the older woman.

Jeanette Colter's face wore the obstinate expression with which her friends were familiar.

"I have something to tell you, several things in fact. Then you will understand why I have no right to the silver arrow and cannot permit you to present it me."

Jeanette was wearing a white muslin gown Mrs. Perry had made from one of her own, the greater number of Jeanette's clothes having perished in the lodge fire. The dress was singularly becoming, although at this moment her face was nearly as white as her gown. From her eyes the blue seemed to have disappeared until they looked the shade of smoke-gray clouds.

"I not only have no claim upon the silver badge of courage, I had no right to the prize I received at the riding contest. I won unfairly. Often I have puzzled over no one's seeing that I pulled my horse directly in front of my stepmother in order to force her to lose the race. She has always been aware of the fact and at first I feared she might speak of it. Afterwards I began depending upon the knowledge that she would never speak of it."

"Jeanette dear, do you think this is necessary?" she could hear her stepmother's voice pleading.

"Yes, I do think it is necessary. I don't want to create a scene, but I do wish everybody to know the truth. Since I decided after the fire to confess to father I have wanted all our friends to know. I wrote a letter to the club and sent back the Swastika pin, but because of their affection for father I believe no one has spoken of what I did. I can no longer endure sailing under false colors. It is curious I have changed, at first I dreaded anyone's hearing. A great experience does change one sometimes, don't you think?

"So you see I not only have no right to the silver arrow, I am afraid I have even lost the right to continue a member of the club. But I hope you will learn to forgive me and permit me to do this."

"You have proved this already, Jeanette!" Cecil asserted. "I think your confession braver than helping to rescue the people you care for. I vote that you be awarded the silver arrow of courage."

Again Jeanette shook her head. This time she laughed with a note of relief, as if a burden had been lifted.

"Sorry, Cecil, but the silver arrow is no longer the club's to bestow. The other day father and I rode down into the ravine and sat there by the edge of the enchanted lake for a long talk together. Again we saw the same Indian boy whom Via and I had caught a glimpse of a short time ago. As father was with me this time he did not run away, but continued searching for something. By and by father grew interested and went over and asked what he had lost. At first the boy appeared frightened and declined to speak, afterwards he broke down and poured forth this story. Suppose we sit down in a circle on the ground while I tell it you. I have been awaiting this opportunity."

The circle was a large one. In order that every one might hear, Jeanette established herself in the center of the circle, following the ancient Indian custom.

"You remember the Indian legend Lina related to you. I shall not repeat it in detail. You recall that long ago a young Indian lad, White Heart, was presented with the silver arrow, not because he understood the arts of war, but for wisdom and kindness, the arts of peace.

"We were under the impression that this was merely a legend, a myth, and that no Indian tribe at the present time was in possession of the famous arrow of silver. Well, in a way, no tribe is in possession of it. The arrow fell at our feet and I was first to pick it up.

"The boy confided to father that he was the son of a chieftain whom father happens to know personally. No one outside the tribe is supposed to be informed, but from generation to generation a silver arrow has passed from one chieftain to the next. This arrow he is to guard with his honor and life. The silver arrow is supposed to show the greatness of his tribe and the long line of his descent.

"The Indian lad we observed had stolen the arrow from his father. It is said to bring one good fortune. He had concealed the silver arrow among others he carried in his quiver, and one afternoon by mistake he fired it into the canyon. From that day to this he has been seeking what he had lost. If the arrow is not restored he fears his life will prove a forfeit."

"I trust you will agree that the silver arrow is no longer ours to keep. If it is true that the 'Club of the Silver Arrow' still wishes to present the arrow to me after what I have confessed to you, then I ask you to allow me to return it to the Indian boy. Some day he hopes to be chief of his tribe."

By and by, when the club had agreed with her point of view Jeanette slipped away and joined her stepmother and friend, Mrs. Perry.

She thrust an arm in each of theirs and the three of them began walking slowly up and down.

"I presume you have given up all thought of going East to school this autumn, Jeanette? I shall not stay on at Rainbow Castle many months longer. I am sure Mr. and Mrs. Colter must wish to return to their own home and are too considerate to ask me to leave. So I shall miss seeing you."

"Yes, I am going East to school; I have been intending to tell you, but wanted to be sure. You must not think we are ungrateful to you, but Jack, I mean my stepmother—we never have known what to call her—is to pay my expenses. She and father and I have decided this is wisest."

Jeanette glanced at the older woman and a smile of understanding passed between them.

"The truth is, Mrs. Perry, now I have learned to like my stepmother better, I am not half so anxious to leave home. I know I shall be dreadfully homesick, and yet I must not back down at this late date."

"Yes, I am glad for your sakes. I have realized that the night of the fire burned the barrier that stood between you. But I am sorry, Jeanette, I shall never have the same share in you. Still, you are to allow me to look after you in the East and spend your holidays with me whenever you are unable to return home.

"I wonder if any one has ever said you and Jeanette were alike?" Mrs. Perry suddenly inquired, turning from the girl to the woman.

Later, when the guests were saying farewell, Cecil Perry and Jeanette had a moment together.

"I always suspected you believed I had not won the racing contest fairly. Was this true, Cecil?"

FAREWELL

The ranch lands, usually fair and appealing, to-day looked bleak and forbidding.

At the frame building which served as a railroad station were gathered a number of persons who were indifferent to the conditions.

A large group of them surrounded a young girl, dressed in a dark-blue serge traveling costume with a black hat trimmed with a blue bird's wing. Her face was flushed with excitement and in her hands she was carrying a new suitcase which she had failed to place on the platform.

She looked extremely stylish and efficient, and yet was not actually so self-possessed as she appeared.

"Will you please put down your bag, Jeanette, or allow one of us to carry it for you?" Cecil Perry protested.

"With half a dozen boys in your immediate neighborhood one would receive the impression that we had no manners, or else that you were afraid to trust any one of us."

"Don't employ that lofty tone with me, Cecil. I know you have traveled often and far. But kindly remember this is the first journey of any length that I have ever taken in my life. I am trying to give the impression that I am thoroughly accustomed to it, but realize that I am obliged to make mistakes now and then."

Jeanette glanced about until her eyes fell upon a young woman whose costume indicated that she also was waiting for the train.

"A profound secret, Cecil! If your mother were not leaving with me I should somehow manage at this instant to slip away from all of you and hide myself in a clump of sage. Then back to the beloved Rainbow Ranch in the morning! I could climb up into my own room at Rainbow Castle without the family knowing in case they decline to shelter a coward."

Olivia Colter had come up to her sister's side and at this moment put her arm around her, clinging fast.

"Please don't go, Jeanette. I wish you would change your mind even at this last instant. I know you will never be the same again. Boarding school, away from your own family and our Western country! You are sure to change."

"And can you think of no possibilities for improvement in one Jeanette Colter, Via?" Cecil inquired. "There are those among us who may even be hopeful that she will alter in one or two characteristics."

"Then speak for yourself alone, Cecil Perry," Via flashed with unexpected fire. "I am perfectly well satisfied with Jeanette as she is. If any one else feels differently it is not your place to mention it."

"Forgive me if I have offended your two highnesses," he entreated. "I was not really serious, as I hoped you might guess. Neither was I aware that one had to regard Jeanette as faultless to admire her. As a matter of fact I do chance to admire her."

"Cecil, I naturally possess a trusting nature and most of the things that people tell me I believe. So far as you are concerned, any other statement you make I will accept, but never your last!"

Cecil Perry's expression changed. Until this moment he had been jesting, not for Jeanette's sake alone, but partly to sustain his own courage.

He was remaining in Wyoming for the winter. His mother and Jeanette Colter would depart in the next quarter of an hour, were the train on time, for New York. Jeanette would enter a boarding school on Long Island.

The choice had been Cecil's own. Even now he was not regretting it, only it was difficult to escape a natural sense of loneliness, a slight sensation of being deserted.

"Jeanette, suppose you walk down to the end of the platform with me alone. I wish to say something to you. Via may of course come with us. I have not the cruelty to suggest that Via give up having you with her for a moment."

Jeanette hesitated, looking at the other friends surrounding her. Lina and Eda, a few yards away, were at present saying good-by to Mrs. Perry. Eda had thrust her hand into her stepmother's and was holding her as if she feared she might escape. Shy with strangers and of unusual surroundings, she was excited and unhappy over the thought of Jeanette's departure and of the approach of the train that was to bear her away. Not often willing to reveal her dependence upon affection, her stepmother felt as if a shy, wild bird was nestling inside her hand.

In another moment Jeanette was planning to say farewell to her companions and join her own family for the short time that remained to her. Therefore she did not feel inclined to agree to Cecil's request.

"Please do what I ask, Jeanette. Remember how unfair you have been to me in times past! Make up in this fashion."

Whether or not Cecil were in earnest, Jeanette Colter could not be sure. However, his words decided her. She had not always been fair to him and in a way owed him a great deal. In the future she might be very dependent upon his mother's kindness and affection.

The two girls and their companion moved a few steps away from the others, strolling leisurely toward the end of the station platform. At the moment the rain was falling in a sheet of gray mist.

"Don't you think we somehow have changed places, Jeanette, since our first meeting?" Cecil inquired. "In the first weeks after my arrival I disliked the West and the outdoor life. I remember I regarded nothing with favor, not even my neighbors. I was homesick, Jeanette, as I told you then. I wasn't so bad as I appeared. Now I have learned to love the ranch life. Why I even love the rain on the prairies and the way it falls and disappears on the patches of desert sand, like jewels being caught up by a great underground magician. Good gracious, am I growing poetical, Jeanette? This must be due to mother's departure and to yours. What I wanted to say is knowing you has done me a lot of good. You did brace me up in those early days. I was determined no girl should have a right to think of me as you did. So I set myself to learn to like the Western life and have succeeded pretty well.

"You have grown tired of it. You may not realize this and I appreciate that you are sorry to be saying good-by to us this afternoon. Still the fact remains that you are yearning to see new places and meet new people and try a new kind of life. You are a Ranch Girl no longer!"

"Please don't, Cecil. You are not being fair to me and besides will make Via more unhappy. I was horrid to you during the beginning of our acquaintance and you have been awfully kind of late to behave as if you had forgiven me. The truth is that I was so intensely disagreeable at the time that you only came in for a share of my unpleasantness. You know there were other persons who suffered more. But mother and father have decided to forget the past, so you might as well. However, I don't ask that you admire me. That is too much to expect! Besides I am a Ranch Girl and shall always love this Western country better than you have any right to. You see, I was born and brought up here, while you are the newest kind of a tenderfoot. I don't want to go East, I know I shall detest boarding school and weep every night for the ranch. It was sweet of your mother to give up Rainbow Castle to the family. I am sure she decided to go back to New York earlier than she had planned, so we might move back into our own home after the fire at the lodge. Alas, I said 'we,' yet I shall not be there for the present. You don't believe what Cecil said, do you, Via?"

"I am not sure, Jeanette. Of course I know you are devoted to all of us, but I don't think you mind going away half so much as we do giving you up."

"Come, no comparisons, Via," Cecil returned, "else I shall be forced to mention the obvious fact that you have me to take Jeanette's place. I have no thought of posing as a Ranch Girl, yet I'll be a fairly good substitute, especially as your father has agreed to let me work for him this winter. I am to acquire a little practical knowledge of ranch life. I don't expect my work will amount to a great deal, but I'll manage to be at the Rainbow Ranch every minute I am free. I suppose one has to keep on at one's books now and then."

Jeanette was accustomed to the fashion in which his fair skin reddened when an emotion stirred within him.

At this instant, thrusting his hand into his pocket, he drew forth a long, slender box.

"Please don't open this until you are out of the State of Wyoming, Jeanette, one hour across the border, then you may.

"If we were not friends at the beginning of our acquaintance this will, I hope, make you believe that I was in earnest when I said a few moments ago that I admired you very much at present. Who knows, I may admire you even more some day? In any case I am glad you and mother are such friends. She has always wished for a daughter and you'll do fairly well. I could not have let her go back to New York without me, unless you had been with her. She will have you to be interested in this winter and to take my place."

Jeanette's eyes rested curiously upon the slender box, carefully wrapped and tied.

She had no opportunity to reply, merely to receive the gift, since at this instant she heard her father coming toward them.

"See here, Cecil, you are not to absorb Jeanette's society at the last like this! A man wants a chance at his own daughter now and then."

"I don't feel like leaving home, father. Suppose I give up and stay here and take charge of the ranch this winter?" Jeanette demanded, half joking, half in earnest, and holding tight to her father.

She looked and felt like a very small girl at this instant, boarding school, which had been a long dream, now appearing as a kind of impossible nightmare.

"You'll take good care of father and the girls and the ranch? And you will forgive my being so, so abominable?" she pleaded. "I do admire and like you ever so much now—I mean really, as if you were not a member of the family."

This speech did not sound graceful or what she had intended to say and Jeanette paused. She had the uncomfortable impression that there would not be time to explain.

She and her stepmother had never kissed each other during their entire acquaintance. If this was unusual, it was because their temperaments were in many ways alike. Save with the people to whom they were deeply devoted demonstration was difficult.

On her lips the girl felt another pair of lips rest for a fleeting instant. This was unimportant beside the fact that eyes met in a long, intimate and soul-revealing glance.

"It is all right, Jeanette, and wise for you to go," her stepmother answered her unspoken thought. "Things may be difficult at school, but you'll get a great deal from it. As for me, I promise to do my best at the Rainbow Ranch and to let you hear if anything goes seriously wrong. Good-by."

The three other Ranch Girls were waiting to say farewell. Jeanette's last embrace was for her father.

A few moments after she was wiping the mist from the car window and trying to catch farewell glimpses of her family and friends. They receded all too quickly from her vision.

The older woman read a magazine. Now and then she glanced at the girl when she felt she was not aware of her scrutiny.

After a time Jeanette's sensation of loneliness began to be dissipated by her interest in her surroundings. Her color came back. The small head with the bobbed brown hair and firm chin and the gray-blue eyes was lifted first to stare out the window, then to study her fellow-travelers.

She and Mrs. Perry were eating dinner in the dining-car just before dusk, when Jeanette inquired:

"I don't know, dear, I'll ask some one. Why are you interested? Will you feel you really are on the way then?"

"Yes, we left Wyoming half an hour ago. We will be in the mountains before dark."

"That is, if nothing happens," amended the stranger. He was a lean, wiry man, with furtive eyes.

"Why, nothing is likely to happen!" exclaimed Jeanette, a little awed by the man's manner.

"You never can tell," he answered. "The motto of Tom Furniss—that's myself—is, 'Expect the worst, and you won't be disappointed.'"

"I think that is the very stupidest motto in the world," said Jeanette indignantly. "It seems to me that the real man is he who goes through the world expecting the best things; and if the worst things come, he meets them courageously and with the belief that the misfortune is but momentary."

"Perhaps you are right," said Mr. Furniss; "indeed, for people like you two ladies, whose lines are cast in pleasant places, you are right; but I've lived in the Bad Lands where humanity is raw, and where the man who isn't alert for trouble is sure to meet disaster. I don't say I go around looking for trouble, but——"

He did not finish the sentence. Came a hissing of steam, a screeching of brakes, then a crash.

The man was flung sprawling across the table. Mrs. Perry and Jeanette were jerked from their seats. The dishes were swept crashing to the floor. The train had come to a stop.

Laboriously Mr. Furniss gathered himself up from the table. "I expected something like this," he grunted. "This is a bad neck of woods."

"Yes, but not the kind of hold-up you mean," answered Tom Furniss, with a wry smile. "It's a hold-up due to faulty signals, or one of those unaccountable accidents that all railroad men must be prepared for. It's a collision. We've run into a train ahead, I suspect. You're not hurt?" he asked solicitously.

Mrs. Perry and Jeanette arose shakily. "I don't think there are any bones broken," said Jeanette.

"And I think I'm all right," added Mrs. Perry, "except that I am suffering from shock."

"I'm never shocked," said Mr. Furniss gloomily. "You see, I always expect the worst, and——"

"Oh, please stop that pessimistic talk," pleaded Jeanette. Then to Mrs. Perry: "Don't you think we had better go out and see what has happened?"

Mr. Furniss shook his head. "Now you ladies stay right here and I will bring you the report. I expect there may be scenes that women folks wouldn't like to see."

"No, Mr. Furniss," she said. "I begin to be superstitious of people who expect the worst; and as Jeanette and I expect the best we will do our own investigating."

Tom Furniss sank back in his chair with the feeling that some one had thrown a pail of water over him.

"I never could bear women folks," he muttered querulously. "If a man gets snappy with you, there's a way of settling him; but when a woman floors you with a word or two there's no come-back."

Somehow he no longer had any desire to find out what had happened, and he slumped back in his seat and began idly to rearrange what dishes were still left on the table.

Presently Mrs. Perry returned. She had left her vanity case and had come to retrieve it. There was a look of relief on her face.

She looked at Mr. Furniss and frowned. Then a quizzical smile illumined her countenance. "It's your turn to be disappointed, Mr. Furniss," she said, smiling. "There were none of the gruesome scenes that you pictured in your mind. The accident was not a serious one. We bumped into the rear end of a freight train, but our brakes were working splendidly, and apparently nobody was hurt, though a few people were foolish enough to faint. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but your predictions were not verified."

Mrs. Perry was going away, but a feeling of pity for the man whose whole life was built on the expectation of coming misfortunes made her halt.

"In future I'm going to follow your lead: expect the best, and see how it works."

"Oh, it will work," said Mrs. Perry, and smilingly, she went back to join Jeanette, who had taken her seat in the car behind.

"All's going to be well now," she said, laughing, as she settled herself beside Jeanette. "I've reformed our inveterate pessimist."

"Yes, indeed. He's promised in future to expect only the best things in life—and if we all could concentrate on the best things, why, we could turn this curious old world into a paradise."

"You're a dear," said Jeanette. "But," she added suddenly, "I wish we'd hurry and get away from Wyoming."

Mrs. Perry looked in surprise at the girl. "Why are you so anxious to get away from the state which you should be very fond of?"

Jeanette made no response, but her fingers closed tighter on the little box Cecil had given her. She stared out of the window at the gathering dusk. The landscape was fading out of sight. Night was at hand.

The train was in motion again, but it was a backward motion. The freight train ahead blocked their line. A broken axle was the cause, and it would be some time before it could be repaired.

Meantime orders had come for the switching of the east-bound passenger train to the west-bound tracks.

They ran back for some time, till they reached a switch, then swung across the rails to the west-bound track.

As they gathered speed and carefully crept past the crippled freight they could see men with lanterns working in the gathering gloom.

"We are on the wrong track," said Jeanette. "I do hope we won't run into a west-bound flier."

In a little while the danger zone was passed and they were switched back to the east-bound track.

Jeanette glanced at her watch. It was fully an hour and a half since they had crossed the Wyoming border. Cecil had said "One hour." Allowing half an hour for the time lost at the accident, they must be fully "one hour out of Wyoming."

The box was a little too long for an ordinary jewel box and yet had somewhat this appearance.

She lifted the lid. Inside on a bed of white satin was a long pin. The pin was a beautiful silver arrow. It bore but little resemblance to the small pins that were the insignia of the Club of the Silver Arrow.

This pin had been made for an especial purpose and after a beautiful design. In the point were three tiny jewels, a sapphire, a ruby and a diamond.

"This is for Jeanette Colter, who, I still believe, earned the right to the possession of the silver arrow."

A little later, when they were both commencing to feel weary and planning to retire to bed, Jeanette said slowly:

"Mrs. Perry, do you think it ungrateful of me and lacking in affection that I really do want to go East to school? I did not feel this at the last and would have stayed on at the ranch if I had received any encouragement. Cecil understood me better than I understood myself. He was always insisting that I wished to leave. In the last few hours I have decided this is true. I want to see what the world is like beyond my home surroundings."

"There are some natures that are more adventurous than others, dear. Some of us wish to go forth early and one way or another to seek our fortunes. You see, our fortunes may mean a great variety of things. Other people are willing to wait and perhaps have their adventures seek them out. What does it matter? We must fulfill ourselves."

BOOKS BY MARGARET VANDERCOOK

THE RANCH GIRLS SERIES

The Ranch Girls at Rainbow Lodge
The Ranch Girls' Pot of Gold
The Ranch Girls at Boarding School
The Ranch Girls in Europe
The Ranch Girls at Home Again
The Ranch Girls and their Great Adventure
The Ranch Girls and their Heart's Desire
The Ranch Girls and the Silver Arrow

THE RED CROSS SERIES

The Red Cross Girls in the British Trenches
The Red Cross Girls on the French Firing Line
The Red Cross Girls in Belgium
The Red Cross Girls with the Russian Army
The Red Cross Girls with the Italian Army
The Red Cross Girls under the Stars and Stripes
The Red Cross Girls Afloat with the Flag
The Red Cross Girls with Pershing to Victory
The Red Cross Girls with the U. S. Marines
The Red Cross Girls in the National Capital

STORIES ABOUT CAMP FIRE GIRLS

The Camp Fire Girls at Sunrise Hill
The Camp Fire Girls Amid the Snows
The Camp Fire Girls in the Outside World
The Camp Fire Girls across the Sea
The Camp Fire Girls' Careers
The Camp Fire Girls in After Years
The Camp Fire Girls on the Edge of the Desert
The Camp Fire Girls at the End of the Trail
The Camp Fire Girls Behind the Lines
The Camp Fire Girls on the Field of Honor
The Camp Fire Girls in Glorious France
The Camp Fire Girls in Merrie England
The Camp Fire Girls at Half Moon Lake

THE GIRL SCOUTS SERIES

The Girl Scouts of the Eagle's Wing
The Girl Scouts in Beechwood Forest
The Girl Scouts of the Round Table

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RANCH GIRLS AND THE SILVER ARROW ***

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I.	The Silver Arrow
II.	Under Changing Skies
III.	The Dawn
IV.	At Breakfast
V.	A Lawn Party
VI.	The Law of Averages
VII.	Preparation
VIII.	The Test
IX.	Face to Face
X.	An August Afternoon
XI.	The Request
XII.	The Refusal
XIII.	Associations
XIV.	New Friends
XV.	The Past
XVI.	Favoring Winds
XVII.	Out of the Dark
XVIII.	Valor
XIX.	Farewell

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Ranch Girls and the silver arrow

The Ranch Girls and the Silver Arrow

BY MARGARET VANDERCOOK

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS