"Waiting for me, girls?" called Anne, joining her friends.

"We just got back from the barn," said Eleanor, showing the habits which she had over her arms.

"Well, take them to the room and change your shoes. We must wear flat-heeled boots for walking about this place, you know," returned Anne, noting that Eleanor carried both habits—doing her sister's work for her, as usual.

"Good gracious! I forgot to unpack the walking shoes. Won't these Cuban heels answer?" cried Barbara, impatiently.

"They might answer for a twisted ankle," laughed Anne.

"Then we'll postpone the walk till to-morrow," said Barbara, decisively.

"Not me! I'm going to the cliffs if I walk bare-footed. In fact, I'm not so sure but that will be the most delightful thing to do," said Eleanor, sitting down to unbutton her high-heeled shoes.

"Nolla! Stop disgracing us so!" cried Barbara, shocked.

"Well, I want to see those cliffs at close range. If you start for home to-morrow—or maybe this afternoon, if you find the cliffs disappointing—I can at least take back the remembrance of the wonderful spot," pouted Eleanor.

To avoid the usual argument between the sisters, Anne quickly made a suggestion. "Bob's feet seem to be about the same size as mine, and she can have my tennis shoes for this walk."

"And Polly's feet look about my size! Why can't I borrow a pair of her country shoes?" added Eleanor, eagerly.

"Nolla! Your feet are very slim while Polly's are broad as are most country girls. You would ruin your feet in clumsy shoes," exclaimed Barbara.

Polly looked appealingly at her mother, so she came to the rescue. "I have always been very careful of Polly's feet, as I can see no advantage in ruining a child's feet, hence you will find Polly's shoes are made by a first-class shoemaker."

"Do they have such things in Oak Creek?" came sarcastically from
Barbara.

"Do they have them in Denver and Chicago?" retorted Anne.

"Naturally—in Chicago. To meet the need for our class." And Barbara tossed her head defiantly.

"Polly, run and find those last shoes we had made on the scientific last plan," came from Mrs. Brewster.

Polly vanished and Anne ran to her room for the tennis shoes. Barbara walked away and stood on the terrace looking at the far-off peaks. Eleanor and Mrs. Brewster glanced at each other, and finding a similar expression in each other's eyes, both smiled. Thereafter a better understanding existed between the two.

"Staring up at white-topped mountains ought to be good and elevating for you, Bob," began Eleanor, teasingly, when Anne returned.

"Here, Bob, try them on," suggested Anne, holding out her brand new tennis shoes.

Then Polly returned with a neat pair of boots with good extension soles. Eleanor took them, turned down the top and looked at the label. She threw back her head and laughed mockingly.

"What a blow to Bob's pride in the Maynard feet! Here we have to come to Pebbly Pit and find our pet label in Polly's shoes. I'm sure the Maynards will change cobblers hereafter!"

Every one laughed at Eleanor, but Barbara occupied herself with trying on Anne's tennis shoes. Eleanor sat down upon the grass and soon had on Polly's common-sense shoes.

"They fit to a dot!" exclaimed she, holding out one foot to verify her statement.

"Well, then, if you feel you can wear them comfortably, do let's start before some other delay occurs," said Barbara, petulantly.

The four young folks started on the trail that wound about the cliffs, and Mrs. Brewster went indoors to cook some old-fashioned doughnuts—a large stone crock of which was always kept in the pantry.

The walk seemed very long to Barbara, who was unaccustomed to much walking, but the other three girls reveled in the exhilarating air and bright morning sunshine. Reaching the first cliffs, Polly explained about the volcanoes of that section of Colorado and showed the visitors many interesting formations of lava.

They were about to continue to the Giant Guards, when Barbara complained of aching feet. She declared it was the rough trail and not her tender feet that caused the pain and ache. So the girls sat down to rest, while Polly told of trips to other volcanic craters and peaks. They were about to start on their way again, when the echoes of a lively whistle sounded over the lava walls.

"It's Jeb going to the corral to find our horses for this afternoon," explained Polly, leaning out over a fragment of lava to see who was passing by. But Jeb did not pass. He called loudly for his young mistress. "Miss Pol-lee—Ah got sumthin fer you-all!"

"Come up here, Jeb! We're resting on the Giant Guards!" shouted Polly.

Soon Jeb appeared on the edge of the cliffs and held out a huge paper bag that had great grease-spots here and there on its sides and bottom.

"Yer Maw hed me bring these dunnits t' you-all, ez Ah come by. She sez fer you-all t' let me have anudder one, too."

"Oh, they are still warm!" exclaimed Eleanor, as Polly handed her one from the bag.

"Shore! But that makes 'em tas' better!" declared Jeb, anxiously watching Polly hand one to Anne next, and one to Barbara, before remembering him.

"They're horribly greasy things," said Barbara, holding the doughnut fastidiously with the tip ends of her fingers.

"Mebbe folks'd call 'em by anudder name ef no grease war used t' cook 'em by. Ah likes 'em, howsomeever, grease an' all!" returned Jeb, grinning with relief as Polly gave him two large ones.

"Um! But they're good!" Eleanor smacked her lips at the first bite.

"I can't eat mine—they look so impossible!" And Barbara raised her hand and threw her doughnut over the cliff.

"Oo-ah!" came from Jeb in dismay, but he hurriedly left the girls.

Polly was surprised, too, but she merely said: "We never waste anything worth while. The chickens and pigs like doughnuts—if we ever have any left for them."

Anne had to turn away to hide a smile, and at that moment she saw Jeb at the foot of the cliff, glancing up to see if any one saw him pick up the discarded delicacy from the ground.

The incident over the doughnut silenced Polly as she led the way between the two giant peaks of lava. They reared their heads more than sixty feet high and were so oddly shaped that they derived their names of "Giant Guards" from the spears seemingly held out from the shoulders to challenge passersby.

The trail leading between the Guards was not more than six feet wide but immediately after passing them, one reached a semi-circle of cliffs standing about a natural arena. Opposite the trail that opened on this arena, a narrow canyon descended gradually away out of sight.

"These cliffs forming the rim of the bowl are called the 'Imps' Tombstones.' If you examine them closer, you will find they have queer faces and all sorts of strange patterns traced on their bodies," explained Polly, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"This bowl—as Polly calls it—is as large as Yale Campus, isn't it?" said Eleanor, hoping to, establish conversation.

"Everything about Pebbly Pit is on a large scale—even the hearts of the owners," added Anne, patting Polly on the back.

"Pardon me for differing, Anne—not the feet of the owners," laughed
Eleanor, sending a teasing look at her sister.

"Mother says this bowl seems to have been a small crater belonging to the great pit yonder, when the volcano was active in the centuries long gone by," explained Polly, as the others ignored Eleanor's remark.

"These Imps certainly are strange formations! Some with arms flung high as if in defense, others crouching low as if to launch an arrow at the enemy. And see those—erect with proud mien, in defiance of all others. They must have been unvanquished," said Anne, interesting Barbara in spite of her assumed indifference.

"I just guess they weren't so cold and rusty-brown when the old demon spit fire at them from the active volcano," said Eleanor, gazing aloft at the grotesque heads with facial forms.

"Nolla! I beg of you to use better English! You know how mother trembles at your picked-up words from brother!" rebuked Barbara, seemingly shocked at her sister.

"What a tale these Imps could tell us of remote ages when they were flung aside as useless in the evolution of things!" said Anne, diverting a possible argument.

"I say, Anne, why wouldn't this place give you 'atmosphere' for that story you want to write, some day?" exclaimed Eleanor, unexpectedly.

Anne flushed and Polly looked at her in surprise. Barbara seemed amazed, too.

"Is this something I never heard of?" asked the latter.

"Oh, no; I once said to Nolla that I should love to be able to write a story, and she assured me I could do it. She is only teasing, as usual," laughed Anne, and at the first opportunity, she managed to give Eleanor a smart rap on the shoulder for her breach of confidence.

Leaving the Imps behind, Polly took the trail that led to the "Devil's Causeway"—the ravine that cleft two towering peaks of lava. This chasm descended abruptly to a depth of over five hundred feet and then as abruptly ascended to the level of the distant end of the trail, where it brought one to the ridge that over-looked Bear Forks Valley.

"Do you want to go through the Devil's Causeway?" asked Polly.

"Oh, by all means!" exclaimed Anne.

"I wish we had thought of bringing the camera," said Barbara.

"We will some other day. Now let us see the best views to get," quickly replied Anne, glad to hear Barbara express herself favorably.

"You people go down into that yawning grave, while I sit here and plot out a preface for Anne's book," said exhausted Eleanor, selecting a bowlder where she could sit and see far and wide.

"I'd just as soon stay with Eleanor while you two go down and back again," ventured Polly.

"All right; Bob and I will see what's to be seen and be back shortly," agreed Anne, starting down the trail.

The two young girls sat high upon the lava bowlder while Polly pointed out different familiar spots and mountain peaks. Then Eleanor turned and looked curiously at her companion.

"Does your father own all of this great estate free and clear?" asked she.

"Free and clear! What do you mean—that he cleared it of timber and freed it of sage-brush?"

Eleanor laughed heartily. "Mercy no! I never thought of that. I meant a mortgage, you know."

"I don't know what a mortgage is. But father never had to clear the place much as it was always rich free soil without brush."

Eleanor glanced quizzically at Polly. "Humph! My father knows what a mortgage is, poor man! Mother made him do it to get her a French car this spring. If your father was my father and owned all this vast place free and clear, my mother would mortgage it in a jiffy if she married him!"

"Well, she didn't!" came decidedly from Polly, with a grateful sigh of relief.

Eleanor laughed in appreciation. "Say, Polly, my father would like you down to the ground!"

Polly made no reply and Eleanor looked about her again. "Polly, how does it feel to own such wonderful things as you just showed us? And such a great farm as you have?"

"I never thought of it. In fact, I don't believe any of us remember who owns them. Everybody is welcome to help themselves to these cliffs and the jewels at Rainbow Cliffs."

"How much do you s'pose your father is worth?" now asked Eleanor, showing a trace of Mrs. Maynard's teachings.

"I never asked him. We never thought of his being worth more than we might need."

"Oh, but you never can need all those cattle, and the vast farm, or the wheat and other products he ships and they bring in money," persisted the daughter of a banker.

"He sends it off 'cause we can't let it spoil, you know," replied the thrifty rancher's daughter. "But I don't know how much money he may be worth. Maybe a hundred thousand dollars for the land, and maybe another hundred thousand in cattle. I've heard John and Father talk over an offer of half a million dollars for part interest in the Rainbow Cliffs, but Dad wouldn't spoil 'em."

"What! What did you say he refused?" shrilled Eleanor.

Polly turned suddenly to look at her companion. She was surprised at the expression on Eleanor's face.

"I never lie. Why should I?" she cried in defense.

"No, but you must have been joking!"

"I wasn't! Why should I joke?" retorted Polly.

"But goodness me, girl! If your father was as rich as all that, why would you care about wasting a doughnut? And look at your mother making her own butter and helping in housework! Anne says she even spins her own linen towels and knits your stockings. What under the sun would she work like that for, if she could afford to live better'n we do?" cried Eleanor, incredulously.

"My mother doesn't have to do a thing, unless she wants to. She just likes to do it for us, and it sure does make a home!" declared Polly, fondly, as she looked across the Pit to her home.

"Ye-es—I guess it does; but then some mothers can't sew and spin and cook, you see, so where would the home be if we didn't have servants and folks to do for us?" sighed Eleanor, comparing her own home life to Polly's—to the latter's advantage.

"What does your mother do, Nolla?" asked Polly, sympathetically.

"Oh, she is a society leader, you know. She goes calling, and has bridge parties every week. Then she has her teas and dinners, and the balls, or theater parties, in season. Other times she has her clubs and Welfare Work—she is President of a Charity Work, you see, and has to address her members every once in a while," said Eleanor, warming up to her description as she visualized her mother's important life-interests.

"Anne told us about how sick you were two years ago, and how you had to leave home to live in Denver all last winter," said Polly, a compassionate note creeping into her voice as she pitied the girl at her side.

"Well, I got better, didn't I?" came from Eleanor, shortly; then she said tenderly: "Anne and her mother were great!"

"Yes, but I was thinking if it was me—so sick that the doctors feared I would never be well again—do you s'pose my mother would have stayed at home when I was with strangers in Denver? I reckon not! All the butter, or balls, or charities in the world could not have kept her from my side every minute I was sick!"

Such emphasis found Eleanor lacking with a reply but her eyes filled up at the thought of a love that would sacrifice the world for a beloved child. Would her mother do that if she realized any danger to her children? Ah, that is what hurt!

"Polly, my father would do as much for me, too!" said Eleanor, exultantly, the moment she remembered one parent who loved her unreservedly.

"So would mine."

"Then why should he object to your having a good education in Denver? And look at the way he dresses you, Polly! I don't want you to think I am poking fun at you, 'cause I'm not, but the way you slick back your hair into two long braids and the baggy skirts you wear are simply outlandish. If I had that wonderful curly chestnut hair I'd make so much of it that I'd look positively beautiful."

Polly felt hurt, not only because of her love of the beautiful in everything, but also because she hoped Eleanor would turn out to be a staunch friend. Now, of course, she wouldn't make friends with such an old-fashioned country girl!

"It's much easier to keep the hair out of my face when it's slicked back. Besides, there isn't any dress-maker in Oak Creek better'n my mother. But she doesn't have much time to trim dresses. When I go to Denver, I'll have as fine a wardrobe as yours."

"If your father has any money why doesn't he buy an automobile instead of using that awful ranch-wagon? And why doesn't he hire servants to do the work your mother now does? She could sew on your clothes, if she had more time."

"Mother never liked to have me think much of dress and I have always been so busy with my pets and trips on the mountains, that I generally lived in my riding clothes during vacations. But my shoes are as good as yours—you said so. And my teeth and hands and feet are as carefully taken care of as yours or any one's!"

Eleanor admitted that this was so, but Polly still had to prove that her father had money. And she insisted upon the fact being proven.

"If you don't believe me, you can write to my brother John," declared Polly. "His best college friend visited here last vacation-time and simply went crazy over Rainbow Cliffs. He went so far as to have an expert mineralogist come over here to examine the stones. This man was out west on business for Tom Latimer's father, and Tom said it would cost next to nothing to send for him. The man said the jewels would create the greatest wild-cat speculations in New York if they were placed on the market. Those were his very words!"

"Tom Latimer! Do you know him?" gasped Eleanor.

"He's John's chum. He visited here for several weeks and we had the loveliest times! I liked him a lot."

"I should think you would! But, Polly, Tom is several years older than you. In fact he is older than Bob, as she found out when she tried to capture him for herself. His father is one of the richest financiers in New York."

"I didn't think of his age, although now you speak of it, I suppose he must be about John's age. But he acted like a big boy, so we had fine times," explained Polly, entirely innocent of Eleanor's hints regarding the young man.

Eleanor threw back her head and laughed heartily. "Just wait until I tell Bob this. Oh, how she will envy you your chance. Why, she did everything on earth but fling herself at his head when mother told her he was the richest catch of the season."

"Why, he told me he was never going to marry until he found another girl like Anne Stewart! He thinks she is splendid. I asked him why he didn't marry her, and he teased me by saying I wanted to know too much. But he did tell me that Anne loved some one else who was a thousand times better than he, so he had no chance with her."

Eleanor glanced sharply at Polly to see whether she was innocent of guile or whether she was trying to hide her real meaning. She saw that her young companion had really no thought of love for herself or for her brother John. So Eleanor never hinted that she had a suspicion of the truth about Anne and John.

"Do you think Anne liked Tom Latimer?" she asked.

"Oh, yes! But she likes him because he is such a friend of my brother's and her brother's. You see, Anne's brother Paul is at college with John and Tom," replied Polly.

"Yes, I know. My brother is one of their class-mates, too. But I never met your brother or Paul. Mother said I was too young to appear in the drawing-room when Pete gave his party to his class-mates this spring."

"Oh, I've heard about a 'Pete' who is so clever in his engineering class. Is that your brother?" eagerly asked Polly.

"Yes, and we're proud of him! At least Dad and I are. I don't suppose mother will feel proud of him until he marries a rich society girl. And Bob never bothers about what he does."

Now all this was new and strange gossip to Polly and she was willing to hear more along the same lines, but Anne and Barbara returned from the ravine, and the former called to them:

"Have you been wondering what kept us so long, girls?"

"Never thought of you. We've been getting acquainted," replied Eleanor, with a smile at Polly.

"That's good. Now let's go and visit Rainbow Cliffs," added Anne.

"Lead off, Polly and I will follow," said Eleanor, linking her arm through Polly's.

Polly was not only surprised but pleased at Eleanor's evident act of friendship. She had never had a girl-friend of her own age to confide in, and she had felt very diffident with these city girls after their arrival. But the short talk while sitting on the bowlder not only established a firmer foundation for good comradeship between the two girls, but it gave each a better appreciation of the other's character.

After a circuitous walk, the four girls reached the cliffs where the jeweled stones shone resplendent from the side-walls and ground where tons of them were piled up in abandoned confusion.

"No wonder they are named Rainbow Cliffs! I never saw such a dazzling sight as these green, blue, red, and other colored stones!" cried Anne.

"They are so beautiful that it seems as if they are real jewels!" sighed Barbara, gazing raptly at the seemingly precious stones.

"Polly says a man offered a fabulous price for a small interest in this spot," remarked Eleanor, taking up a handful of the pebbles and letting them run between her fingers in a speculative manner, while she glanced covertly at her sister.

"Not really!" exclaimed Barbara, looking at Polly.

"Yes, but please let's not talk of it. Father does not like any of us to speak of it, as he fears John and I will have our heads turned," returned Polly, sending a reproachful look at Eleanor.

But Eleanor smiled with satisfaction, for she knew she had boosted
Polly's value a thousand fold in Barbara's estimation.

"Well, I'd sell out if it was me! My, but the good times I could have on the money this would bring!" sighed Barbara, glancing up at the masses of colored stones towering above her in the sunshine.

"My brother John says he is going to work these cliffs as soon as he finishes his college course of engineering," said Polly.

"And Tom Latimer is going to be his partner!" added Eleanor, watching her sister closely.

"Nolla, I didn't tell you that, at all!" cried Polly.

"Tom Latimer! Does she know him?" asked Barbara of Anne.

"I don't know, Bob; Paul and he are great friends of John Brewster's, you know."

Polly would not deign to look at Eleanor again, and took the homeward trail without another word as she felt pained at her newly found friend's mis-statement of facts. But Eleanor had done it all for friendship's sake. She knew what a radical change all this information would make in Barbara's estimation of the Brewsters and the ranch, so she said more than she herself really believed true.

At that moment the dinner-horn sounded and the girls started for the house, without making further comment on the cliffs.