“That is a very dangerous statement to make unless you have proof,” Connie replied gravely.

“Jim Barrows’ bank roll is proof enough for me,” the foreman answered gruffly. “He knew you were carrying the prize money home with you, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” admitted Connie reluctantly.

“And where was he last night? No one saw him in town. He came back to the ranch about four o’clock this morning. His horse was just about done up.”

“The idea sounds ridiculous to me,” Connie said scoffingly. “I think you’re inclined to be entirely too suspicious, Mr. Blakeman.”

“All right,” retorted the foreman with a shrug. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me. But don’t say later that I didn’t warn you.”

After Blakeman had walked away, Connie stood for a long while gazing off toward the distant mountains. She knew perfectly well that the foreman bore Jim Barrows a grudge and would enjoy seeing him involved in trouble. For that reason she largely discounted his words.

Yet the accusation he had made served to arouse a certain distrust in her mind. Little things which had seemed insignificant before now took on greater importance.

It was true, as Blakeman had said, that Jim Barrows knew she intended to carry the rodeo prize money on her person. His sudden acquisition of a bank roll did seem rather strange. She was almost sure the man had been without funds when he first came to Rainbow Ranch.

As Connie mulled the matter over in her mind, she saw Jim Barrows emerge from the bunk house and walk toward the barn. She was tempted to summon him, but could not quite bring herself to do it.

“The idea is ridiculous!” she told herself again. “I’ll not think any more about it.”

But Connie found that it was not easy to dismiss the matter from her mind. She caught herself studying the cowboy and pondering Forest Blakeman’s words.

Late afternoon brought a message from Mr. Postil in the form of a telegram sent out from Red Gulch.

“Expect three more guests Monday,” it read. “W. P. Grimes, son Cecil, and daughter Helena, arriving with me.”

Connie scarcely knew whether to feel elated or dismayed. But at least the message served to shake her from the lethargy into which she had fallen.

She promptly set Marie to work cleaning and preparing the guest chambers. The rooms were pleasant enough but they were barren. There were so many things needed—curtains, rugs and linen.

“I’m going to town now to buy supplies,” Connie told the servant. “I’ll just have to get credit, that’s all. And I’ll try to find another woman to help you.”

At the dry goods store in Red Gulch, the girl made her selections. As the owner wrapped up the package, he remarked casually:

“Well, so you’re going into the dude business?”

“Only in a very small way.”

“Reckon the fever’s struck everyone around here,” the storekeeper went on. “Hear your neighbor’s going to try it too.”

“My neighbor?”

“Sure, Pop Bradshaw. He’s fixing up the ranch and planning on quite a number of city folks spending the summer there. They say he’s going to build a swimming pool.”

“Things like that cost money,” Connie said gravely. “I didn’t know Pop had it to spend.”

“Oh, he’s just the front so they say. I hear that the banker is behind the deal.”

The news filled Connie with deep resentment. It seemed unjust to her that the bank, while refusing to grant an extension to her loan, would risk a large amount in trying to develop Pop Bradshaw’s run-down ranch.

She was offended, too, because Enid had told her nothing about the proposed plan.

“Sometimes I feel as if I haven’t a true friend in this community,” Connie thought bitterly. “As for Mr. Haynes, I believe he deliberately planned to get my ranch. And the worst is that he’ll undoubtedly succeed!”

Back at Rainbow Ranch the girl called Lefty and Jim Barrows to tell them about their new duties.

“In the morning you must be on hand to greet the guests when they arrive,” she declared. “I’ll appoint you two to keep them happy and satisfied. And now we may as well take a ride over your route.”

“Route?” demanded Lefty. “Are we supposed to run a milk wagon too?”

“It’s this way,” explained Connie. “The guests probably will wish to ride. Either you or Jim must escort them, and I’d like to have you give an interesting little talk about the different places of interest.”

“Jim here is the one to do that,” Lefty insisted. “He’s the handsome boy and he has style. He could give the ladies a lot of good poses a-settin’ on his steed and a-pointin’ off dreamy-like into space.”

“You’ll make a good stage cowboy yourself when you get used to the idea,” Connie laughed. “Come on, let’s ride up to the lake.”

The three riders passed along a narrow trail which led through a dense wood of cedar trees. The path soon became steep and narrow, causing the horses to labor as they climbed single file toward the summit. Upon reaching the top of the hill, Connie dismounted, and throwing the reins to the ground, said to her companions:

“This is Lover’s Leap.”

“It’s what?” demanded Lefty incredulously.

“It used to be Conner’s Lake but from now on we’re calling it Lover’s Leap,” Connie chuckled. “Didn’t you ever hear the story about how a beautiful Indian princess jumped off here and lost her life when her beloved warrior married another squaw?”

A grin spread over Lefty’s face.

“Oh, sure, I get the idea,” he said. “Atmosphere.”

“The lake doesn’t really need any build-up,” Connie declared. “Our guests will not find a more beautiful spot anywhere in New Mexico.”

As she spoke, Connie moved nearer the edge of the cliff. The opposite side of the hill top sheered off into a perpendicular wall of rock nearly sixty feet high. At the base of the declivity was a small pool of deep blue water. Beyond, the hill sloped gently away into the wooded valley.

“I’d be careful, Miss,” warned Jim Barrows uneasily. “It must be seventy feet down to that lake.”

“Not quite so far,” replied Connie, moving back from the cliff. “But it’s a long drop.”

After viewing the scene for a few minutes the three riders mounted again and rode down to a fork in the trail.

“This path leads to the cliff dwellings,” Connie explained for Jim Barrow’s benefit. “There are two trails, but for an inexperienced rider this one is best.”

“Alkali was telling me about those cliff ruins,” Jim Barrows remarked. “Your father discovered them years ago, didn’t he?”

“Yes, and they’re in an almost perfect state of preservation. Dad had some excavation done and cut away brush. If you’ve never been over we might go now. I could spend hours there.”

“I’ve seen Blakeman over this way a lot,” Barrows commented as they started down the trail. “I reckon he’s interested in such things.”

“Not that I ever heard,” laughed Connie. “Blakeman’s hobbies aren’t so very cultural, I fear.”

“He was probably over this way lookin’ for a stray cow,” Lefty contributed.

The trail wound down into the valley and then ascended at a steep angle. A little farther on, Connie halted her horse so that Jim Barrows might view the cliff dwellings from this particular point.

“Of course you know the cliff people were widely distributed throughout the Southwest in prehistoric times,” she remarked. “The most noted of their ruins are at Mesa Verde, the national park, but I think ours are just as interesting if they’re not so large.”

“What was the idea of building their homes up under the lip of the cliff?” the cowboy asked.

“Oh, that was for protection against their enemies,” Connie explained. “Then too, it gave them shelter from the cold. As we go farther you’ll find that the cliff dwellers used many devices to guard the entrances of their homes.”

“It takes an acrobat to get to the place,” Lefty added. “On the other trail you have to go through a narrow tunnel.”

“This route is much easier,” Connie said, “but we’ll do a little fancy climbing.”

She urged her horse on again and for a time they rode single file, circling the cliffs as they ascended higher. Presently, tying their steeds to a tree, they continued afoot.

By means of a knotted rope, Connie swung herself down to the lower level of the cliff.

“The old cliff dwellers didn’t need ladders to get up and down as we do,” she told Barrows, pointing out toe holds which had been chipped in the rock. “They climbed like flies.”

The three companions now stood on a shelf of rock and earth. Back beneath the lip of the cliff were visible the geometrical ruins of square granaries, round towers and oblong rooms cut with tiny windows and doors. Connie told Barrows that seven different families once had occupied the site.

“How do you know?” he inquired curiously.

“Why, by the number of kivas,” she declared. “Here, I’ll show you what I mean.”

She pointed out a deep, circular hole in the earth which had been roofed over. It was large enough to have held perhaps twenty or thirty people.

“A kiva such as this was used for ceremonial purposes only,” she explained, “but each little tribe or family had its own. There is a great deal of lore connected with them but I’ll not bore you with that. Would you like to go down into it?”

“How would I get out again?” he inquired.

“Oh, one of the other kivas has a ladder. Dad put it in years ago.”

“Let’s take a look at it then,” Barrows agreed.

Connie crossed over to another kiva which had been hidden from view by a high wall.

“Why, where is the ladder?” she asked in surprise.

“Looks like someone has swiped it,” Lefty declared peering down into the dark opening. “I’ll have to make another before our dude season gets in full swing.”

“We could let you down on a rope if you’d like to see the inside,” Connie offered. “But there’s nothing down there.”

“I’ll not bother this time,” the man returned. “It’s getting late anyway.”

“Yes,” agreed Connie, quickly, “we really should be getting back to the ranch.”

They retraced their way, finding themselves winded by the time they reached the horses.

“It’s funny about that ladder,” Lefty muttered as they started down the trail. “I’d like to know who swiped it.”

Presently they swung back into the path leading from Lover’s Leap and Connie pointed out a site which would be excellent for picnics.

“You’ve really given a lot of thought to this dude ranch business, haven’t you?” Jim Barrows asked soberly.

“Yes,” Connie acknowledged; “it seems to me we have wonderful attractions here. A dude ranch has been one of my dreams. A silly one, I’m afraid.”

To hide her emotion, she quickly rode on down the trail. Presently she reined in to indicate a large cliff across the ravine. At this hour of sunset it was a shimmering wall of color.

“Echo Cliff,” she said softly. “Be sure to point it out to our dudes.”

“Say, you sure have picked up a lot of fancy names,” Lefty complained good naturedly.

“They are the names I gave these places when I was a child. I was a great one to pretend, you know.”

“Will the rock really echo?” asked Jim.

“Listen!” commanded Connie.

Cupping her hands to her mouth she gave a long, clear cry which came back not once but several times.

“Say, that’s a real echo!” Lefty exclaimed. “In all the years I been workin’ here I never knew you could get an echo like that.”

“Maybe I’ll be able to teach you a few things about this ranch,” Connie laughed. “I know and love every rock and stone here.”

“If you lose the place,” said Lefty, “it will be a rotten shame.”

No sooner were the words spoken than he regretted them. Connie’s smile faded and a tired look came over her face.

“Yes,” she replied.

And then, pulling her jacket more closely about her throat, she added: “It’s getting chilly. Let’s be going home.”