Jim Latimer and Kenneth Evans made their appearance much earlier on Sunday morning, than they had on the previous one. When greetings with his brother, and the family at Pebbly Pit were over, Jim explained: "The Boss lifted his ban on using the horses, when he found his men grumbling all week over their wretched Sunday."

Of course, the two new arrivals were interested in hearing all about the gold mine and its present condition, not only because there might be a possibility that Kenneth's uncle was the Montresor who first discovered the vein of ore, but also because Polly and Eleanor were such good pals, and they deserved something big like a gold mine! Which goes to show that youth needs no time or preparation to discover and appreciate any desirable qualities of mind and soul.

Barbara was in her element that Sunday, as John escorted Anne wherever they went, and the two younger girls had Jim and Kenneth for companions. So, quite naturally, Tom Latimer fell to her lot. As she had been carefully trained to make the most of any opportunity offered, especially with a rich and desirable young man for the prize, she used every art to captivate Tom. But the young man was sensibly educated and wondered why really good-looking girls should act as silly as Barbara did on this occasion.

He felt embarrassed at having to look at her from time to time, as she was powdered and rouged as she would have been for a ballroom in the city, and poor Tom thought that, perhaps, she had some loathsome irruption on her face that necessitated this covering of the natural skin. Consequently he managed to keep his eyes turned away that the girl might not feel too unhappy over her trouble.

But Barbara thought her cavalier was so effected that he could not look at her without feeling her powers of beauty and attraction; so she posed and minced her way as she fondly believed into Tom's plastic heart. Had she but known the truth!

A merry family group sat down, at noon, to the delicious dinner served under the giant oak-tree. And Mr. Brewster, as affable as if he had not been tried by a family-court the night previous, asked the younger boys how their survey-work was progressing.

"Oh fine! We have lots of fun in camp, and when we go out on a section the work is so interesting!" exclaimed Kenneth.

"With such a large crowd of men, I suppose you two boys are considered more as kids who are to be teased and imposed upon, eh?" asked Tom Latimer, having read his brother's letters about the crew.

"That's the best part of the crowd—they seem to forget that we both are tenderfeet and years younger than they are. Ken and I are treated exactly like any of the older men in the crew," replied Jim.

"Yes, we are paired off with certain groups to rain-proof the canvas tents, to act as commissary agents, and to share in all the chores the others do. Just because Jim has a rich father and because I have to work for a living, makes no difference to them. Caste and wealth counts as nothing out in these wilds. It is what a fellow stands for and can prove that is his introduction and guarantee of manliness," added Kenneth.

"Did your crew move to a new line, as you thought they would?" asked Eleanor.

"Yes, we are now at Silver Creek, but we only have another week's work to do there. Then we move on to the next section which will be near Buffalo Park. Isn't that the place where you said Old Montresor had a cabin?" said Jim.

"Yes, and it is a lovely spot. I've been there, and I promised Nolla I'd ride there with her some day," returned Polly.

"Oh, I say, girls! Wouldn't it be great to have you-all ride up while we camped there? You could make up a party of it, couldn't you?" asked Kenneth, eagerly.

"And we'd get Old Carew to give you a regular party! The men in our crowd are gentlemen from different parts of the States, and they would help us entertain," added Jim.

"I think it would be a treat, Mrs. Brewster, for all of us. John and I would join the picnickers," now said Tom Latimer.

"Say, would you really, Tom?" cried Jim, delightedly.

"Sure thing. If Mr. and Mrs. Brewster approve."

John looked at his mother. "It will be dandy, Mother, if you and Dad will go, too."

"Father and I wouldn't go, John, if Tom and you will escort the girls," returned Mrs. Brewster.

"Oh, but we couldn't think of going, Mrs. Brewster, unless you chaperoned us among so many men!" exclaimed Barbara. Then when she saw Tom Latimer looking at her she modestly drooped her head.

Tom was thinking: "Of all the empty-headed vain creatures it ever was my misfortune to meet, she takes the cake!"

"That needn't trouble you, girls. If you will come on a Saturday and spend Sunday at camp with us, we will have the Boss's wife there to act as hostess. Mrs. Carew always spends Sundays at camp—unless the Boss rides down to town to visit her. Sometimes she brings the school teacher from Oak Creek, or other ladies who enjoy the novel life in a survey camp," explained Jim, enthusiastically.

"Do let's go, Anne! Can't we say yes?" said Eleanor, eagerly.

"How long will both of you boys be here?" Anne asked of John.

"We planned to wait until we hear, one way or the other, regarding the stones we sent to New York, and about the financing of Choko's Find. Perhaps Dad and Dr. Evans might even come out and look the ground over for themselves, before answering my letter," said John.

"Then we could safely arrange to go next Sunday, or the Sunday after?"

"Oh, yes, we will be home for a month, most likely."

John's voice betrayed his satisfaction that such was to be the case, and Anne smiled faintly, because she could not control her own pleasure in hearing him say so. Mrs. Brewster and Tom Latimer exchanged glances of understanding but no one else saw them.

So it was decided that if Mrs. Carew was to visit her husband over the following week-end, and the weather permitted, the young folks would form a party to ride up to Buffalo Park on Saturday. With this pleasure in view, the two boys went back to camp in the early afternoon, the distance being so far from Pebbly Pit, that it would be quite dark before they reached camp.

After they had gone, Polly and Eleanor wandered around at a loss for something to do. Being Sunday, their sports were limited to a quiet time. So they decided to visit the corrals and see Noddy and Choko, as the burros had been neglected by their riders during the past few days of the excitement over gold.

They were passing the wagon-house, when Polly caught hold of Eleanor's arm for silence. Both girls listened and distinctly heard a man speaking in dramatic tones. The voice was not recognizable, although Polly had not heard of any new hand having been hired.

"Ef Ah wasn't shore we-all'd be happy, Ah never would be h'ar askin' fur yor hand an' heart." Then there was a pause.

A low mumbling followed, and then the voice again cried:

"Ef you-all w'arn't my match, Ah'd go away and nary trouble this ranch agin. But folkses kin see we-all w'ar made fer each other. Even John says so!" Then sounded another jumble of incoherent words.

"Who under the sun is it? A couple who are in love with each other?" wondered Eleanor, aloud, as she turned to Polly.

"Whoever it is, they are behind the wagon-shed. Let's creep up to the harness loft and see who it is. There isn't another woman on the farm beside Sary, and I'm sure I saw her in the house, when we left there."

Polly led the way up the ladder to the loft, and then they crept carefully across the floor until she reached the wide loft-window. This she opened quietly and tilted the slats so they could look down in the yard behind the barn.

There sat Jeb with a few loose pages from a pamphlet in his hands. He was memorizing the words, and as he did so he mumbled them.

Every time he had mastered a certain paragraph, he would stand up, strike a pose, and declaim in an unnatural voice, to the pig-sty that was not more than twenty feet away from the sheds.

Suddenly Polly clapped a hand over her mouth and rocked back and forth. Instantly Eleanor wanted to know what the joke was.

"Oh, oh! I know now where Jeb got that paper book. It was advertised in our Farm Journal as being the most complete education on how to propose gracefully to a woman that man ever could find. I just bet Jeb sent for it, one day, when he asked me to address an envelope for him. He must be practicing to ask some Oak Creek girl to marry him."

Both girls now smothered their laughter, for the idea of simple little Jeb in love with some one was too funny for words. He seemed terribly in earnest, however, as he stood up again and declared his love, and beat his breast and pretended to tear at his hair:

"'Ef you-all refuse me Ah shall end mah wretched existence! What is life widdout love? Oh, beuchus maiden—' no, no, Ah musen't call her 'maiden' er she'll knock me down," murmured Jeb, scratching his head in perplexity.

His audience almost choked with laughter, but he suddenly brightened up again and said to himself: "Yeh, that's it! She'll like thet." Then he began again with one hand over his heart and the other tearing at the thin covering of hair on his head, "'Ef you-all refuse me Ah shall end this wretched life—' no, no! Ah shall end this wretched existence! What is life widdout love? Oh, beau-chus widder, will you-all be mine?"

As Jeb spoke his last lines, he smirked to himself and said: "Thar now, Jeb! That'll fetch her, er John's all wrong."

Polly and Eleanor looked at each other in consternation. Who was the widow—and what had John to do with this proposal?

Jeb was placing the little paper book in his breast pocket when the girls looked out again. Then he picked up the bucket of swill and ran over to feed the pigs. His audience, up in the loft, heard him still reciting various love-thrilling lines to himself, as the pigs grunted and snorted and ate their supper. But Eleanor said they'd better get away before Jeb found them.

Polly studied her brother's face keenly, during supper, but John seemed as free from guile as any babe. So after the table was cleared, she went up to him and whispered: "Did you tell Jeb to propose to any widow you know?"

"Why?" John's eyes twinkled with fun.

"Because he was behind the shed all afternoon, reciting impassioned lines he had learned in a paper book. We heard him say that that would fetch the widow or you wasn't as wise as you seemed to be."

John laughed loudly, and merely murmured: "We ought to be on guard to-night, lest Jeb commit some folly. Better watch him, Polly, and see where he goes, eh?"

"He never goes anywhere on Sunday nights. He sits on the terrace by the crater and smokes his pipe."

"Well, he is safe there, but if you see him come by, all togged out in his church clothes, let me know and I'll see that he comes to no harm. He may be a bit off, you know," John lightly tapped his head as he spoke.

"Oh, I hope not. Jeb is such a good hand. Father would never know what to do without him. Perhaps we'd best tell father of your suspicions," cried Polly, deeply concerned.

"No, no! Don't bother father. I'll take care of Jeb. You just see that he keeps quiet, to-night, wherever he goes to smoke his pipe."

Innocent Polly then sought for Eleanor, who had been called to the kitchen by Sary. Polly found her giving a plaid ribbon and a corsage nosegay to Sary. But it developed that the maid had higher aspirations than ribbon and flowers.

"Miss Nolla, Ah see'd a figgered dress a-hangin' from the hook in yur room, one day. No one never wears it, an' Ah wuz wonderin' ef it was yur's, er Miss Bob's, er Miss Anne's?"

"Oh, that is a striped dimity that mother must have packed by mistake. It happens to be one of hers, so we hung it back in the corner till we go home again."

"Ah s'pose yur Maw woulden mind much ef she lent it to me fer to-night—eh?" hinted Sary.

"I don't suppose mother will ever think of it again, as it is last year's style, anyway. I'll take the risk of giving it to you, Sary, if you promise never to let Bob know where it went."

"Oh, Ah shore will promise, Miss Nolla! And Ah kin tell you-all Ah'll be the happiest gal in the West, to-night!" Sary said, giggling like a veritable school-girl.

Polly watched her depart with the coveted dress over her arm, then she turned to Eleanor. "All the help are going crazy, it seems to me!"

About half an hour later, Sary was seen stealing from the kitchen door, and tip-toeing over the brick pathway towards the "Second-best" hammock that always swung behind the lilac bushes. It was a nice little retreat for any one wishing to take a nap on a sultry afternoon, but Polly had never known Sary to have a weakness for swinging.

"Do you know, Nolla, if I didn't have to watch for Jeb, I'd just love to follow after Sary and see what she is up to," said Polly to Eleanor, as both girls sat alone on the porch steps.

"Jeb! Why, I saw him come from the barn all dressed up in his church clothes. He turned down the Shrubbery Walk," replied Eleanor.

"Did he have his pipe?" asked Polly, anxiously.

"No, he looked around at every step as if to make sure no one was following him."

"Dear me! I promised John I'd keep my eye on him!" cried Polly, distressed beyond words.

"What's the matter? I can show you where he went," said Eleanor, comfortingly.

So she led Polly to the place where Jeb had left the road and turned down to the shrubbery walk. The two girls walked over the soft sod that gave forth no sound, and quite suddenly came upon a scene that caused Eleanor to crush her handkerchief into her mouth to choke her laughter, while Polly stood speechless.

Sary sat in the hammock, one foot used to propel herself gently back and forth. The newly-acquired striped dress was such a tight fit for her rubicund form, that it cracked ominously every time the wearer took a deep breath. But the short-coming of the two fronts over her ample bosom was camouflaged with the plaid ribbon and many pins. The corsage bouquet was tucked high under her chin where it would show most.

It was not very dark as yet, so the girls could see how dreadfully white Sary seemed to be, and her lips were startlingly crimson. Suddenly Eleanor guessed the truth.

"She's gone and used Bob's powder and rouge! Oh, how funny!"

Then, before either one of the accidental eaves-droppers could say another word, Sary perked her head sideways, like a hen does when it hears a strange sound. She quickly frizzed up her hair by ruffing it backwards, and patted the ribbon on her waist-front, then gently used her foot again to propel the hammock back and forth.

Gradually it dawned upon Polly and Eleanor what all this meant! They could see Jeb coming from behind the lilac bushes, some ten feet away from the swinger. He seemed ill at ease, and loosened his stiff collar, pulled down his vest, and cleared his throat several times.

"Oh, Poll! He's going to propose to the 'widder'!" whispered Eleanor, burying her face in Polly's back to stop the spasm of laughter.

Polly was too hypnotized to reply, or move, and Jeb soon was heard to say: "Sary, Ah cum 'cuz you-all invited me to be compny t'night."

"So Ah did, Jeb. Won't you-all sit in th' hammick beside me?" came from Sary, coyly.

"It broke thru, last season, Sary, an Ah mended it. But Ah ain't shore it'll hol' enny more'n you." However, Jeb moved two or three feet nearer the hammock.

"It's a fine evenin', Jeb," suggested Sary, as seriously as if the weather was the subject uppermost in her mind, just then.

Jeb gazed up and around as if to verify Sary's statement, then admitted, slowly: "Yeh, it 'pears to be fine."

Silence reigned for several moments, then Sary said very sweetly (Eleanor whispered to Polly that she must have had a mouthful of honey), "Ah shore am glad to see you, Jeb. Won't you-all sit down on this stool?"

The girls then saw that Sary had provided the three-legged milk-stool for her visitor. But it was too close to Sary for Jeb's peace of mind. He reached out very warily and caught hold of one leg of the stool, and pulled it towards him. Then he sat gingerly on the edge of it.

But Sary was determined to carry off a captive that night, or waste all of her ammunition in the attempt.

"Ah jes' loves to swing, but Ah cain't tech the ground easy when Ah'm sittin' back. Would you-all mind swingin' me, Jeb?"

Jeb got up slowly from his stool and took hold of the upper end strands of the hammock. He pulled it back and forth a few times, while Sary smiled alluringly up at him. Then he cleared his throat and began to speak.

"This world was made fur love. Oh, what woul' arth be widdout de flowers of love to parfume our way?" Jeb coughed.

Now this was just the sort of romance Sary had always dreamed of but never heard before, and she sighed heavily as her visitor coughed. If Jeb needed encouragement, she was not the one to disappoint him!

He gave the hammock a strong tug as he began another line. Sary had to catch hold of the edges to prevent herself from being thrown backward.

"Man wuz not made to live alone. Th' Good Book says so. What so glorious ez a sweet bride waitin' t' welcome a man after a hard day's labor? What man is thar what woulden give his wealth of all Crows-see-us fer love?"

Jeb pronounced the unfamiliar word very carefully, but Sary had never heard of Croesus, so it mattered not how Jeb said it. But Polly and Eleanor were clasping each other tightly now, to keep from making a sound that would ruin the entertainment.

Again Jeb cleared his throat with difficulty and pulled at the hammock as if he was trying to drag a whale from the deep sea. Sary uttered no complaint, however, even though her neck almost snapped at each sudden jerk. She was wise enough to realize that the momentous time had come for Jeb. He might never again summon courage, if he failed to-night!

Without further warning, then, Jeb began his memorized lines, and as he progressed with the "love sonnet" he unconsciously swung the hammock higher and higher.

"Ef Ah wuzn't shore we-all w'ar made fur each other Ah wooden be ha'r beggin' fur yur heart an' hand."

A long and mighty pull on the hammock almost landed Sary out in the grass, but she clung like a vise to the hempen ropes.

"Enny one kin see we-all w'ar made fur each other, oh darlin' of mah heart! Soul of mah soul!" Jeb coughed violently as he remembered he was two paragraphs ahead in his speech. Now he couldn't remember what went just before that "soul of my soul!" but he knew the tragic part to perfection, so he skipped all that went before and ended with:

"Ef you-all refuse me, Ah shall end this wretched existence in life widdout love! Oh, beauchus maiden" (strangling as he realized he should have said "widder" and now utterly confounded, he said): "Oh, Sary! be mah widder widdout mah love—NO, Sary, be mah wife widdout my widder. Oh, Sary, Ah don't know what Ah——"

In his frenzy, Jeb yanked on the hammock so manfully that the mended strands suddenly sundered and Sary was unexpectedly thrown into her suitor's arms.

Such an unforeseen accident, however, found Sary ready with presence of mind to meet the emergency. She flung her powerful arms about Jeb's slender form and smacked him heartily on the lips. The dramatic lover then trembled and gasped for breath. How to get away safely was all he could think of. But Sary, as tenacious in her hold as "ivy on the sturdy oak," managed to calm her lover's fears.

"Oh, Jeb! What a wooer you-all do make! Ah never dreamed a man could talk so wonderful!" Sary sighed and placed her head down upon Jeb's shoulder.

Now had Jeb accepted this sweet praise and been satisfied therewith, his wooing need not have ended so abruptly, but manlike, he wanted to hear added words of flattery about himself, so he sat down on the three-legged stool, and drew the over-willing Sary upon his knee.

"Ah forgot to say half what is in mah soul, Sary," he began, as his lines came back to him. "Oh, Ah must tell you-all what joy you fill me wid, when you consent to listen to mah cause——"

In leaning back to emphasize his speech with an out-flung arm, Jeb lost his balance, and the stool being treacherous on its three legs, promptly turned over and sent both lovers from ecstasy down to earth. As Sary and Jeb managed to get upon their feet, they thought they heard sounds of smothered laughter and scampering feet over the brick walk, but when they got from behind the lilac bushes to reconnoiter, everything between the kitchen and the Shrubbery Walk was silent as the tomb.