It was very late when the doctor reached the ranch, that night, and having examined the still unconscious man, pronounced his opinion to the men who had accompanied him from the house.

"It's a bad concussion on the brain, I believe, following a slight fracture of the skull. He has suffered internal injuries, too, from the slight examination I can make here. But we can do nothing for him under these conditions. He ought to be in a hospital in Denver where an operation could take place."

"Would it be a risk to try and carry him there?" asked John, anxiously.

"He won't suffer during the trip, if that is what you mean, as he is unconscious of physical pain. And the sooner he could be operated upon the better. He will slowly pass away if left like this," returned the doctor.

"But to-morrow's Sunday, John, and no trains run to Denver until Monday noon," said Tom Latimer.

"There's the morning milk-train, you know," suggested the doctor. "If I explained the case, they would gladly take these men on and turn them over to the physicians at Denver."

"Then we'd have to get them in to Oak Creek to-night," added Mr. Brewster.

"You'd have to fix up some sort of hammocks in the wagon to spare the poor fellows any jolts. If it can be done, I will wait and ride back with them," said the doctor.

"We'll turn the ranch inside out and upside down in order to help in any way," hastily asserted Mr. Brewster. Then turning to Jeb, who stood watching the scene, commanded him.

"Jeb, get out the truck wagon—the one with the chestnut posts on either side—and hook up four of our best horses. While Jeb is doing that, we will get the two hammocks from the girls and fix up some sort of mattress in each. These hammocks can swing from the posts. I'll go with the doctor and see that no little thing is overlooked."

"John and I thought of going in, Mr. Brewster, and if three are going, you would not have to take this trip to-night," said Tom.

"W-ee-ll I would rather not use myself up in riding all night without being able to do any good to any one, if you young men will go in my place," Sam Brewster sighed.

"An' Ah'll drive the four hosses, cuz, yuh know, it's no joke seein' ahead of th' hosses' noses along that trail in th' dark," announced Jeb, in a matter-of-course tone.

"Jeb, if you would! It will be a great relief to know you are driving—you are such a wizard with a four-in-hand," exclaimed John, smiling suddenly at Jeb.

"Wha—Ah hed no idee you-all diden know Ah was goin' t' do th' drivin'," returned Jeb, surprised at the others for their lack of comprehension.

It was twelve o'clock that night when all was ready and the great wagon lumbered past the ranch-house. The women were all grouped on the porch, silently praying for the safe transportation of the unfortunate schemers from New York.

"Ah don't suppose we will really know why these men came West until Latimer or Evans gets here to explain," said Mr. Brewster, as the remaining members of the family went indoors.

"Didn't you look through the papers in that leather bag?" asked Mr. Maynard of his host.

"No, not when Ratzger came to and told us who they were. I handed the bag to him and felt I had no right to pry into his secrets—especially as he acted so fearful of the contents of the wallet."

"I suppose they hired those horses from Oak Creek," ventured Mrs. Brewster.

"Doubtless; and I told John to make sure and then ask Ratzger what had best be done to settle for them. If the men have ample means they can pay the damages, but if they haven't, I will pay for them myself," explained Mr. Brewster.

"I don't see why you should! You had nothing to do with their hiring, nor with anything connected with this accident," said Mr. Maynard.

"No, but folks here-abouts stick together more or less, and if one has a loss, the others generally help out. Now I can spare twenty horses from my corral sooner than have a friend in Oak Creek think I had something to do with his loss of two good saddle horses."

"If every one thought and acted like that, Mr. Brewster, we would bring in the millennium without delay," Mr. Maynard remarked.

"Ah feel happy to state that Ah will never defer the coming of that same millennium by any trifle like a few horses given away to a less fortunate friend."

All that evening Polly and Eleanor were as cordial and chummy as ever to observers, but no one knew that the two girls had changed places. Only Anne knew that Eleanor had been in the kitchen weeping, and even she did not know the cause of the tears. She fancied there had been a girlish quarrel between the friends but that would soon be made up again. So she paid no further attention to the case.

Eleanor felt humbled by the frank truth spoken by Polly, and realizing that it was absolutely as her friend had stated, she tried to impress upon Polly that she was repentant and would never again do or say a thing that might offend. Hitherto Eleanor had taken for granted that she was more experienced in every way than her simple little friend of the ranch; and without meaning to take the upper hand, had actually assumed that position, until she had reached the point where Polly rebelled against this friendly leadership.

But after the fearless speech from Polly that afternoon, Eleanor comprehended how far behind she really was in this warfare between egotism and egoism. She began to understand that the first expressed stubbornness and selfishness which eventually would result in unhappiness for all concerned; while egoism meant exactly what Polly was trying to demonstrate for herself—that upright fearless stand for Truth, and the sacrifice of everything that interfered with the perfect working out of the highest good.

Hence, without meaning to do so, and in fact, never realizing that it was so, Polly took the lead in everything after that day. When with her friend, Eleanor seldom exaggerated and never took the aggressive attitude again. And with others, she seemed to be developing a quieter and more lovable disposition. But her family and friends declared it was due to the fact that she was out-growing her tom-boy habits.

Sunday morning was far spent before the family met under the oak trees for their first meal. Seeing how late it was, Mrs. Brewster and Sary decided to have but two meals that day—a combination breakfast and lunch and a good dinner and supper about five o'clock. The very unusual break in the habits of other Sabbaths, and the various causes that led to such a change, kept every one lounging quietly about the house and porch.

Mr. Maynard took advantage of the restful hours, to ask Barbara just how much money she needed to defray her expenses in camp, with her mother. And in spite of her mentioning an exorbitant sum, he silently wrote out the check for her.

Barbara had expected rebellion and so was prepared to argue that she needed a new wardrobe for such a select gathering, but finding her father had offered no resistance, she wished she had demanded much more. Had she but known that the only reason he gave her what she wanted, was the qualm of conscience he felt. He was really glad to have his daughter so eager to join her mother in the East, so that he would be relieved of the nagging and unhappiness he was always subjected to when his wife and oldest daughter were with him.

But there was a sub-conscious reason, too, for his ready writing of the check. He was as eager to have Eleanor live with Anne and her mother in New York, as the girl was to go there. And this unexpected plan might meet with various objections from his wife if she dreamed of the extra cost it would be. As he seldom came to an open quarrel with Mrs. Maynard, he considered he was placating both wife and daughter by extending this generous sum of money for their pleasures. Should they offer strenuous objections against Eleanor's plan to live in New York, he would have one cudgel, at least, to use against them.

The sinking sun was bathing Rainbow Cliffs in a glory of color before the echo of the lumbering ranch-wagon was heard sounding across the crater. Then every one ran out upon the terrace to watch the home-coming of the weary boys.

"Was everything all right?" anxiously asked Mrs. Brewster, thinking of the two poor sufferers.

"Oh yes; the hammocks served splendidly, but poor Ratzger groaned continually because of the pain in his limbs," sighed John.

"And we had an awful job carrying them from the wagon to the milk-train. They both are corpulent men, you know," added Tom.

"The docter went along widdem, to Denver," observed Jeb. "Gosh! Ah wisht Ah wuz a doctor, en Ah'd have gone, too. It wuz a free ride fer him, yuh-know."

The humor of the remark made every one smile, and Jeb gazed from one to the other to find out just where he had been witty.

"Never mind, Jeb; you and Sary are going to Denver, you know, for that ring," whispered Mrs. Brewster, aside to Jeb.

"It ain't the same. Sary'll tote me aroun' jest whar she wants to go, en Ah have t' trot behin' her like a poodle!" grumbled Jeb.

Mrs. Brewster understood immediately. It was the call of freedom to the male who is soon to be shackled, to have one last fling. So she whispered back: "I'll see that you get a few days off for a nice visit there all by yourself. Perhaps we can arrange to have you go with the girls and look after their luggage on their way to New York."

At this unexpected offer of bliss, even if it was lonesome, Jeb grinned and shuffled away to drive the horses to the barns.

As Jeb had to make another trip to meet the train on Monday noon at Oak Creek, he was only too glad when Tom announced that he was going, too, to meet his father and Dr. Evans.

John and Anne found so much to say to each other before the separation came, that they were not to be seen all that day. Polly felt sure she would find them seated on the Imps at the Cliffs, if she wanted to take the trouble to walk there. But she didn't.

Mrs. Brewster and Eleanor were together, talking over many pleasant secrets, or at least Polly thought they must be pleasant from the smiling countenance on her friend. Now and then she caught such words as "you know all about such things, Nolla," or Eleanor might say "she will be on top of the heap, if I know it, Mrs. Brewster," so it was evident that she, Polly, was the subject of their conversation. But Polly herself, felt little concern about it all, as she saw the forlorn expression on her father's face as he went about his ranch-duties. Finally she decided upon taking a radical step.

She went to the room where she found her meager wardrobe displayed in every country-like detail. So this was what Eleanor was planning—a conquest made with fine clothes such as she had!

"Mother," she began; "I have changed my mind about going to school. I have decided to remain here with father and you."

"Oh, Poll! You just can't!" cried Eleanor.

"Why this sad countenance, daughter, if you believe you will be happier here than away?" countered Mrs. Brewster.

"Because I am as miserable as Daddy about leaving."

Mrs. Brewster laughed merrily, albeit she felt no joy in her soul. "Then the sooner we dispel this gloom by packing you off, the better. I haven't the slightest doubt but that you will wonder at your present attitude, the moment John and Tom have gone. Once let every young person leave us here all alone for the long solitary winter, and you will eat your heart out to think that you could have been so mistaken as to refuse this wonderful opportunity to make something of yourself and your wealth."

Polly knew in her heart that her mother spoke the truth, but she never dreamed what it cost that mother to speak cheerily as she did about her only girl's going—in fact, almost persuading her to go. For that wise mother had heard the yearnings in Polly's voice the day she spoke so daringly of all her ambitions and of her future. And she understood that this transitory spell of regret was merely the contagion of Mr. Brewster's woe-be-gone thoughts and behavior.

"I'll get after Sam, and that good and plenty!" thought Mrs. Brewster to herself, as she watched Polly with keen understanding.

"Poll, your mother says Anne is to get every last dud you need in the swellest shops in New York. Because you and I will have plenty of money for our future, and we must dress up to our station. Your mother said our success in business would be influenced, to a great extent, by our careful consideration of apparel. She is right."

"But, mother, you said to me, one time, that clothes should never occupy a woman's mind," Polly said, wonderingly.

"I was right in saying so. I do not believe in having anything so perishable as dress occupying anybody's mind. But that does not mean that you should become careless of your appearance nor wear cheap and vulgar apparel. I always felt that an individual expresses his own position in life by the clothes he selects and wears. It is generally a key to one's character. You will find that any one who has slip-shod apparel, is careless in everything else in life, and one who dons gaudy attire—cheap and destructible—will soon show you how small a nature he has. The same with well-selected refined apparel; one garbed in the best, no matter how many seasons they may have to wear the articles, will prove reliable and conscientious in other ways.

"Oh, I never dreamed this would end up in a sermon!" Mrs. Brewster suddenly laughed, and then she whisked from the room.

The new arrivals came at sun-down, and every one was eager to welcome Tom's father, and his friend Dr. Evans. Both men were made to feel at home, and as the dinner had been kept waiting for the past half-hour, Sary lost no time in shouting for every one to "setdown."

Smiles on every face, was the rule at that meal, and no one dreamed that Mrs. Brewster had given her spouse the worst "Dressing down" he had had since they were married. He laughingly referred to it later on, and confessed that now he knew where Polly got her "woman's rights" idea, so unexpectedly betrayed the day she stood up for herself.