They met Livingston and his charge just as they reached the dimly marked trail that led up a gulch toward Sydney's camp. At the invitation extended for dinner the sheep-man drove up the coulee and followed the riders.

William, the cook, greeted his guests with a generous smile, then proceeded to do a great amount of hustling about preparing for the meal, which he promised would be an excellent one. Being a round-up cook of much experience, he soon set before them such an assortment of edibles as would have dumfounded the uninitiated.

The afternoon passed off pleasantly. Hope was unusually vivacious, and Sydney full of amusing small talk, principally concerning his sundry adventures and impressions during his brief absence from camp.

They all felt the grief of the German girl, and each showed his sympathy in a different manner. Sydney talked, often in an aimless, senseless way, but obviously to divert the unhappy girl. Hope filled each pause, concluded every description with rich drollery and mimicry, while Livingston's quiet attentiveness betokened the deepest compassion. Even William gave her many smiles and made numerous witty remarks, which were wholly lost upon her.

"You're in a very bad crowd of people, Miss Louisa," said Sydney. "But after awhile you'll be so much like us that you won't notice how bad we are!"

"Shame on you, Sydney!" exclaimed Hope. "Louisa never could be bad!" Then to the girl: "The truth is, he's the only bad one in the whole outfit, so don't let him make you think that the rest of us are bad, too!"

"You are all so goot," said Louisa, in great earnestness.

"Now listen to that!" cried Sydney. "That's the first time anybody ever accused me of being good! I'll get a gold medal and hang it about your neck, Miss Louisa, and I'll be your faithful servant from now on."

"And you'll bring her fresh flowers every day, and maybe you could borrow Mr. Livingston's buggy since you haven't one of your own. But don't soar too high, Sydney, she doesn't know you yet!" returned his cousin.

"But you like him," said Louisa, "and daat iss—vat you calls 'em—recommend enough!"

They were all surprised by this first flash of the real Louisa, the Louisa of sunshine and mirth, whom Sorrow had so soon branded.

It was the first time Sydney had heard her utter anything but the briefest monosyllables. He looked at her, astonished. For an instant silence reigned, then Hope, with sudden abandonment, threw her arms about her, exclaiming:

"Oh, you're the dearest thing I ever saw! Isn't she, Syd?" And then, as if ashamed of her impulsiveness, she jumped up and laughingly left the tent. A few moments later she put her head inside, remarking: "The trout haven't begun to feed yet. I'd like to know how we are going to put in the time waiting for them! It's too hot for anything in there, and it won't be a bit of use to try to fish for an hour, at least. All of you come outside."

"Yes," said Carter, rising lazily to his feet. "I've discovered a small Eden down there under the willows, along the creek. All green and mossy and pepperminty, but the snake's never showed up yet. Come on, we'll all go down there."

He led the way along the steep bank of the small creek and down its opposite side until a parting in the willow brush revealed one of Nature's hidden glories, a small glen, shady and beautiful. From its very center sprang a tiny spring, forming a clear, glassy pool of water which narrowed into a tiny trickling rill that went creeping through the grass-carpeted arbor to the larger stream beyond.

It was beautifully inviting, and Hope sank down upon a mossy cushion with an exclamation of delight.

"Now, how am I for an entertainer?" asked Sydney gayly. Hope turned her dark eyes upon him, then about the little arbor.

"Wait," she said softly, "don't talk for a minute—don't even breathe. This is glorious!" Then after a brief pause, continued: "There, the spell's passed! This place is no longer enchanting, but lovely and cool, just the same, and is a whole lot better than that roasting tent up there. What became of the twins? Probably they are more attracted by William's mode of entertainment than yours, Syd!" She turned to Livingston and smiled. "William has two regular customers already, you know. I am afraid to think what will happen if he camps here all summer."

"I am inclined to add my name to the list if he entertains such charming ones every day," replied the sheep-man.

"I meant the boys," said Hope in all seriousness.

Sydney laughed outright.

"How do you know but what he meant the boys, too?" he asked. She looked at him with an assumption of surprise. "A girl never makes such a mistake as that," she said. "It was a very pretty compliment."

"Worthy of O'Hara," he put in.

"Worthy of Mr. Livingston," she declared. "O'Hara's compliments are not so delicate. They are beautifully worded, but unconvincing."

"I believe she's actually giving you credit for extreme honesty!" exclaimed Carter.

"I sincerely trust so," replied his friend heartily. "It would be a most pleasing compliment."

"Well, I should say it would be the biggest one she ever paid anyone! You're the first one Hope ever credited with honesty. You can sit for an hour and tell her a great long story and she'll never give you the satisfaction of knowing for sure whether she believes you or not. The chances are she don't. She'll take your assertions, weigh every word, and then draw her own conclusions."

"You only know from your own experience," demurred Hope. "All people haven't your habit of departing from the truth, you know." Then to Livingston: "Really, he can tell a terrible whopper with the straightest face imaginable! He only proves to you how well I know him. Last summer he told a girl a ridiculous story about snakes. It was her first visit at the ranch, and for several days I thought something was the matter with her brain. Every time she heard a grasshopper buzz anywhere near she would give a shriek and turn deathly pale. She finally told me that she feared rattlesnakes because Sydney had told her that that particular buzz was the snake's death rattle and that something or somebody was doomed for sure, that if the snake couldn't get the human victim it had set its eyes upon, it crept into a prairie-dog hole and got one of them. Of course that is only a sample of his very foolish yarns, which no one but an ignorant person would think of believing."

"I remember," laughed Sydney. "That was that fair Lily Cresmond. She got up and had breakfast with me at six o'clock this morning. Poor girl! I'm afraid I've put my foot in it this time!"

"For goodness' sake, did she propose to you?" asked Hope, aghast.

"Not that I'm aware of!" answered Sydney. "No, it's worse than that. She asked me to tell her really and truly why you weren't at home this summer. She crossed her heart, hoped to die she'd never breathe a word of it to a living, human creature, so I told her that it pained me to tell the sad story, but last season Freddie Rosehill had shown you such evident admiration that your father had become thoroughly alarmed and thought it best to keep you out of his way for the present. But I suggested that you might face paternal wrath and come back just for one look at the dear little boy."

"Sydney, you never did!" gasped Hope. "How could you?"

"Freddie came trotting out for his morning constitutional just as I was riding away," he continued, "and he waved his cane in the air and actually ran down to the corral to say good-by. I really believe he liked me for once because I was leaving, and he very gingerly asked about you, and naturally was visibly relieved when I assured him that you would probably not be home while he was there. Talk about your joshers!" he said to Livingston. "Hope had the little Englishman so he didn't know his soul was his own! She'd take him out on the prairie and lose him, have him pop away for an hour at a stuffed chicken tied to the top of a tree, shoot bullets through his hat by mistake, and about a million other things too blood-curdling to mention. He didn't want to refuse my aunt's invitation to join the party at the ranch every summer, but his days and nights were spent in mortal terror of this dignified daughter of the house. And I must say there wasn't much love lost between them."

"A brainless little fop!" commented Hope.

"Well, it seems he had sense enough to catch that oldest Cresmond girl, Lily, whose ears I filled with the pathetic story; but I didn't know it then, that's the fun of it! He held out his fat little hand to me when I started out this morning and said: 'I want your congratulations. Lily has promised to be my Lady.' 'You don't say so,' I said. 'Lord, but what a haul you've made, Rosehill!' 'Yes,' said he, 'she's a beauty!' 'And a million or so from her papa'll set you up in housekeeping in great shape over in Old England. I certainly congratulate you!' said I. He didn't seem to have anything more to say, so I rode off, and do you know I never once thought of what I'd told that girl about him liking you until I was halfway here."

"Oh, Syd, what have you done!" cried Hope. "You ought to go right back to the ranch and fix it up for them. It might be real serious!"

"Don't worry; they'll fix it up between them, just give 'em time," laughed Sydney. "But then I shouldn't like to be the cause of breaking up such a match. I sure wouldn't!"

"I should say not! It would be terrible!" agreed Hope.

"No, I wouldn't like it on my conscience," continued Sydney, "to break up such a good match by my thoughtless words. It would be too bad to spoil two families!"

"I quite agree with you, excepting the lady, whom I do not know," remarked Livingston. "But I have met Rosehill. He is, in my estimation, a worthless specimen of English aristocracy."

"Oh, they're mostly all alike, a mighty poor outfit all through, from the ones I've known! But I guess they'll manage to fix it up among themselves," laughed Hope.

At this remark Livingston looked oddly at the girl, then the brush crackled near them, followed by the appearance of one of the twins, who, smiling victoriously, held up for inspection a small string of trout.

"And here we've been wasting our time when we might have been fishing instead!" exclaimed Hope, springing up from her mossy couch and minutely examining the string of fish.

"You'll find fishing tackle, all you want, up at camp. William'll show you," remarked Sydney. "For my part I shall stay here and gather strawberry leaves for Miss Louisa to make into wreaths. Isn't this one a daisy? It's too warm to fish, anyway," he concluded.

"You shall not decide for her, Syd," declared Hope. "Which would you rather do, Louisa?"

The German girl shook her head, smiling a little. "It is very warm," she said.

"Then you shall stay with Sydney," decided Hope. "But I am only going to fish a little while, anyway, because I've got something else I want to do." She looked up at Livingston, who had come near her, and laughed. "Yes, you may go with me if you will show me how to cast a fly. Sydney says you are an expert fisherman, but I don't know the first thing about it. We will walk up the creek and fish down, because the boys are fishing down here." She called to the boy, who was walking toward the stream: "I'll be ready to go home in about an hour, wait for me!" He nodded in reply. "Come on," she said to Livingston.

They had fished in silence some minutes, far up the stream at an open point where several other smaller streams joined this, forming a broad group of tiny, gravelly islands.

"I do think," said the girl finally, "that this is great sport, though I cannot haul them out like you do. Now it must be luck—nothing more, for we both have exactly the same kind of flies."

"You leave your fly too long in the water," said the man. "You should cast more—like this."

"But I can't for the life of me get the hang of it," she exclaimed, making a desperate attempt.

"Not like that," said Livingston. "Look, this is the way. There, you've caught yourself!"

"Yes, how foolish," laughed the girl. "It's in there to stay, too!"

"Wait, I will assist you," he said, leaping across the stream which separated them, and coming to her side.

"I think I can get it out all right," she said, throwing down her pole, and using on the entangled hook more force than discretion. She laughed in a half-vexed manner at her attempts, while Livingston stood near watching, his eyes earnest, intent, his face illumed by a soft, boyish smile of quiet enjoyment.

"If I had another hook I'd cut this off and leave it in there," she said, "but the fishing is too fine to leave now. No, wait a minute," motioning him back with the disengaged hand while she tugged vigorously at the hook with the other. "I can do it. If only the material in this waist wasn't so strong, I might tear it out. How perfectly idiotic of me to do such a thing, anyway!" Her cheeks were aflame with the exertion. "You see," she continued, still twisting her neck and looking down sideways at the shoulder of her gown where the hook was imbedded, "I don't want to break it because we'd have to go way back to the camp and start in over, and then it would be too late in the day. I don't see what possessed that fish to get away with my other hook! But this goods simply won't tear!"

"There's no other way," declared Livingston, with conviction. "You will have to let me help you. I'll cut it out. See," he scrutinized the hook very closely, while Hope threw down her arms in despair, "it's only held by a few threads. If you don't mind doing a little mending, I will perform the operation in a moment to your entire satisfaction."

"Well, hurry, please, because we are certainly wasting good time and lots of fish."

"If all time were but wasted like this," he exclaimed softly, prolonging the task.

She knew that he was taking undue advantage of the situation and that she was strangely glad of it, recklessly glad, in her own fashion. She had never looked at him so closely before. In this position he could not see her. She noticed his broad, white forehead, and felt a strong desire to touch the hair that dropped over it, then admonished herself for feeling glad at his slowness.

From the hillside above them a man on a piebald horse watched the scene interestedly. Without warning the girl's eyes lifted suddenly from the soft, brown hair so near, and met those of the rider above. Livingston's head was bent close to her own, so that he did not see the leering, grinning face that peered down at them, but Hope caught the look direct, and all, and more, than it seemed to imply. Her eyes glittered with anger. Like a flash her hand sought her blouse and for an instant the bright sunlight gleamed upon a small weapon. As quickly the man wheeled his horse and disappeared behind the hill. With a deep flush the girl hid the little revolver as Livingston, ignorant of the scene, triumphantly held up for inspection the rescued fishhook.

"Making love, by the holy smoke," chuckled Shorty Smith to himself, spurring up his piebald horse and heading off a stray calf. "So that's what she does 'longside o' teachin' kids!"