OLIVE, Frank, Jean, what's the use of being a professional invalid if I'm to be shamefully neglected?" a gay voice called, and Jacqueline Ralston, who was propped up in a big steamer chair on the porch of the rancho, banged the book she had been reading violently against the railing. A bright colored Mexican shawl covered her knees, she wore a red rose stuck carelessly in her hair, and the verandah on which she was enthroned was like a Spanish, American and Italian curiosity shop. Its rough wooden floor was overlaid with many varieties of Indian blankets, its walls were decorated with arrows, old pistols, a splendid pipe-rack of carved wood filled with discarded pipes, and the skins of wild animals. Every treasure possessed by the cowboys at the rancho had been brought forth to make an outdoor living room for "the boss," which had always been their title of affection for their youthful employer. Two beautiful Spanish crepe shawls were draped artistically over the back of Jack's chair. Years before they had been purchased by two of the boys at the rancho from some Spanish peddlers and now, much to Jack's regret, they insisted that the shawls form a part of her porch decoration. On a table near the invalid sat a big Indian basket of sunflowers, another of oranges and grapes; a pile of magazines, which Frank Kent had ridden many miles to find, lay near a box of candy from Elizabeth Harmon and a vase of red roses sent by Peter Drummond all the way from California. And yet Jack was feeling aggrieved.

The ranch girls had been for little more than a week at the rancho. The third day after their arrival their old friend Frank Kent had appeared, refusing to be kept away any longer. He had expected to find a place to board in the neighborhood so that he could drive over each day to see the girls, but Jim had stored him away in one of the tents, saying he thought it good for the son "of a noble lord" to try roughing it, but really knowing that it would give Frank great pleasure to be with them. And until this morning Frank had never gotten without the sound of Jack's voice if he thought there was any possibility of her needing him.

Jack was already much better and able to sit up with something to act as a brace behind her; she had more color and was beginning to be her old impatient self. Early in the day she had persuaded Ruth to ride out over the ranch with Jim. Ruth was tired, having unpacked and settled them at the rancho, and, besides, Jack was bored with Jim for being so slow in coming to the point with Ruth and wanted to give him another chance. She and Jean had been dreadfully disappointed that nothing had happened on their caravan trip, but Jack had not expected, when Ruth left her, to be deserted by the other ranch girls and Frank, for they had been given strict orders to stay at home and amuse her.

There were no trees to be seen from the front of the rancho as there were at the Lodge, but Jack could feast her eyes on the wide stretches of her beloved plains and see the cattle grazing in the last crop of alfalfa grass, which grows in fullest abundance in late August and is the color of amethyst. No human being was in sight but Carlos, who was playing with a rough, gray-furred animal that looked like a cross and overgrown puppy. It was the baby wolf Carlos had found in the woods on the day he deserted Jack at the gold mine. The boy had desired to introduce it as a member of the caravan family, but, as it had not been found a cheerful traveling companion, Jim had shipped it home to the rancho and the cowboys had been amusing themselves with it. It growled and snapped and bit at everybody who came within reach of its chain, but in queer, silent Carlos it recognized a master spirit in the kinship of the wilderness and played with the boy in a perfectly tame and friendly way, as though he were its big brother.

"Come here, Carlos," Jack cried, "and please tell me what has become of everybody. There doesn't seem to be a soul around the place except you."

"I was told to stay near you," Carlos answered obediently. "Miss Jean said they were just homesick for a sight of the ranch and were going for a little walk. They would be back before you could miss them, for the two ladies from Rainbow Lodge are coming to see you. They should have come before so long a time."

"How did the girls and Mr. Kent get away without my knowing?" Jack demanded wrathfully.

"By the trail that leads from the back door," Carlos returned calmly, and then as Jack seemed to have no more questions to ask, he returned to playing with his wolf dog.

Jack's face clouded and she sighed mournfully.

"How beastly selfish of everybody to leave me alone!" she thought angrily. "Ruth and Jim would be awfully cross if they knew. Of course Mrs. Harmon and Elizabeth are nice and sympathetic, but I don't feel as though I wanted to see them to-day. Beth isn't half so difficult as she used to be and is ever so much stronger, but she will talk about our accident all the time and Mrs. Harmon looks like she wanted to cry every time she glances at me. Oh, dear me, how I do hate to be pitied—it is almost the hardest thing I have to bear! I wonder if I ever will get used to it." And Jack put her thin hands, from which the brown strength had faded, over her flushed cheeks. "Anyhow, I am glad Jim has promised to wait a little longer before he sells any part of our ranch to the Harmons, though he says Mr. Harmon has offered him more money if we will make up our minds at once. I suppose if I don't get a lot better pretty soon I will have to give up in the end and let Jim sell, since everybody wants to except me and I know they want to do it on my account."

For a few minutes Jack tried to find solace in the pages of her discarded book, but she sighed so heavily that the leaves fluttered.

"It's the dullest thing I ever read in my life," she said resentfully. "How I hate stories about wooden girls, who never have adventures or excitement in their lives, but just go to sewing circles and nice little picnics, where grown people preach to them about feminine ideals! It's like that tiresome poem, 'Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever,'—as though one couldn't be good and clever too! There is no special glory in being good just because you are dull, and I sha'n't be any longer," Jack announced, flinging her book against the wall of the rancho with all the force she could muster.

"What's the matter, Jack?" Frank Kent asked, suddenly appearing around a corner of the house. "Do you wish anything?"

Jack had the grace to laugh at herself, though her eyes were filled with tears. "No, there is nothing really the matter, Frank. I am not in pain nor anything like that," she answered, "so you need not look so sympathetic. I have just been feeling sorry for myself because all of you were wicked enough to take a walk about the dear old ranch when I could not go with you. And I used to think Elizabeth Harmon dreadfully silly when she was cross or complained. You see, I am finding out it is much easier to preach than to practice."

"Why, Jack, you didn't think we would be horrid enough to desert you," Frank protested. "It is rather my fault that you have been by yourself this long. Jean and Olive and I talked things over and thought it would be all right, so I sent them off for a walk with Donald Harmon and I slipped up to the Lodge and borrowed Elizabeth's cart. How would you like to drive down to Rainbow Creek and see if we can find the others?" Frank suggested casually, as though his request was a perfectly ordinary one.

Jack stared at him in amazement, her face radiant with pleasure, and then she shook her head nervously. She never had been farther than the front porch since her arrival at the rancho and now felt afraid to make the attempt. "I don't think I dare try it, Frank," she returned wearily.

"All right. What shall we do—read or play cards or just talk?" he demanded cheerfully.

"Just talk," Jack answered. "Isn't it dreadful, Frank, but I have never liked sitting-still things in my life, reading or sewing or quiet games. Maybe my being sick will give me a chance to improve my mind," she added more courageously, seeing a shadow cross Frank's face.

At this moment Elizabeth Harmon's low governess cart drawn by a small ranch pony and driven by Uncle Zack came trotting down the road which led from the Lodge to the rancho.

"Come along, Jack, do. I'll take good care of you," Frank urged. "Uncle Zack and I can lift you in the cart and make you comfortable and it will do you lots of good to see the old creek and find out that you can get about the ranch even in this poor way."

"You are awfully good, Frank," Jack said gratefully, sitting up straighter than usual, so that one of her sofa cushions slid out on the floor. Uncle Zack had stopped the pony in front of the porch, gotten out, and Carlos was holding it. Jack put out both arms toward Frank and Uncle Zack as naturally as a child, though a few weeks before there was nothing she felt she needed anyone's help to do. "Put me in the cart," she begged wistfully. "I am sure it won't hurt me and I'd rather see the sun glisten like gold on Rainbow Creek than any other sight in the world."

Frank drove slowly across a bridge that had been recently built over Rainbow Creek and along the path on the opposite side, where the girls used so often to ride. The sun was shining and the muddy water looked to Jack's adoring and homesick eyes like a stream of pure gold. Carlos sat on the floor of the cart and Jack was arranged like an Indian princess on one of the long side seats with her shawls and cushions around her.

"Oh, my goodness!" Jack said suddenly and turned so white that Frank reined in his pony and looked almost as pale as his companion.

"You don't feel ill, Jack, please say you don't," he begged boyishly, "or Mr. Colter and Miss Ruth will never forgive me for running off with you like this. We can go right back home now if you like."

Jack shook her head, smiling. "Oh, no, there is nothing the matter. I am just beautifully comfortable and happier than I have been in a long time," she insisted. "But I was thinking that one morning Olive and Jean and I were riding along here, and over by the big rock we saw the fellow called 'Gypsy Joe' washing some stones and gravel in the creek. There was nothing so remarkable in his performance, but the thought of him reminded me of the fortune his mother told me the day before. The old gypsy did not like me and said I was so independent I was going to be forced to depend on other people. It is silly of me to think she could have had a premonition of my accident, isn't it? Have you seen this 'Gypsy Joe' around the ranch since you have been here, Frank?" Jack ended.

"Yes, twice. I believe Mr. Colter intends to look him up to-day and make him clear out. Suppose we rest here a while. Perhaps the girls may come along this way," Frank replied.

"Frank, there is the very pan 'Gypsy Joe' used when he was hunting for gold in our creek," Jack explained, pointing ahead. "Do get it for me. It's battered and ancient enough to look as though it belonged to the iron age and I'd like to see it."

Glad to see Jack taking an interest in little things again, Frank Kent hopped obediently out of the cart, giving the reins to Carlos.

"Climb into the rock there where it splits in two and forms a ravine and see if it's a golden treasure house, as the story books say," Jack suggested carelessly.

Picking up the old pan, the young man clambered easily into the open ledge of rock and got down on his knees among the bits of gravel and loose earth. The sun must have been shining more brilliantly on Rainbow Creek to-day than it ever shone on the rainbow rocks of the Yellowstone Park, for Frank imagined he could see tiny yellow veins running like threads through the big, gray rock and grains of golden dust mixed with the sand and pebbles in the crevices.

Jack laughed as she saw him hammering off small pieces of the rock with the end of his pocket knife. "Got the gold microbe too, Frank? Come on, don't let's wait any longer," she begged.

Apparently Frank Kent, who was a cool, clear-headed fellow, lost his mind, for he paid not the least attention to his companion, but filled his pan with bits of stone, sand and gravel from the big rock and marched to the edge of the creek. Quietly he held the pan on a level with the surface of the water and let it gradually sink until it filled with water; then he lifted it out, tipped it to one side and, as far as Jack could see from the cart, spilled all the water, mud and sand, so carefully collected, on the ground.

"Please hurry, Frank," Jack called, crossly this time. "I am getting tired and want to go back home."

When the young man returned to her he held out the tin pan she had wished for a souvenir, with an expression so unusual that the girl stared at him.

"What is it, for goodness' sake, Frank?" she demanded petulantly. Then even her indifferent eyes beheld small particles of a yellow metal clinging to the bottom of the old tin pan.

"There is gold in Rainbow Creek, Jack!" Frank remarked with the quiet self-control she once disliked in him. "I don't know how much, of course, and it may be in such small quantities that it will amount to nothing. We must not get too excited, but I have not been studying gold mining in Colorado all summer without learning something about it. Let's don't say anything of our discovery just yet. I will take you home now and come back this afternoon to see what I can find out. If Rainbow Creek is bringing gold down from the mountains back of it or gathering it from the rocks and soil along its shores you may be able to do some placer mining that will make you richer than your wildest dreams."

The two young people hardly dared speak of their hopes on their drive to the rancho, and Carlos was solemnly sworn to secrecy. They were both excited, but Frank feared he had done wrong in agitating Jack before he was sure of his discovery, and Jack dared not trust herself to think of what the finding of gold on their ranch might mean in its effect on their future.

As soon as Jack was safe at home with Olive, Jean and Frieda, Frank disappeared. At supper time he had not come back to the rancho; the evening wore on until it was the hour for the invalid to be put to bed, and still he had not come. Jack was feeling sure that Frank had made a mistake and glad they had kept their idea to themselves so that no one should share their disappointment, when the door of the small sitting room at the rancho opened and Frank Kent walked quietly in. His first glance was for Jack, and his face was so pale and serious the others feared some misfortune.

The living room of the rancho was an odd place and yet a fitting one for Frank's disclosure. The room was small, of rough pine boards, with bright chromos and photographs of famous horses tacked on its walls. The chairs were worn and the other odd bits of furniture as primitive as possible. But to-night a bright fire glowed in the big fireplace. Jack lay on an old leather lounge with a rose-colored shawl draped over her, Jean sat at her feet, and Frieda and Olive were on sofa cushions before the fire. Jim was smoking comfortably in the corner, his face almost in shadow, yet wearing an expression of happiness that glowed like an inner radiance. His eyes were fixed on Ruth, though she alone was restless to-night and kept flitting about on unnecessary errands, with her cheeks deeply flushed from her long day out of doors.

Frank walked directly up to Jim Colter.

"Mr. Colter," he announced without wasting time, "I find you have gold on the Rainbow Ranch. I have been examining the bed of your creek all afternoon and as far as I can tell it is encrusted with fine particles of gold. I don't want you to trust to my judgment, but I do want you to send immediately for some one who knows more of placer mining than I do, for I believe we are on the verge of a great discovery."

All of the girls, except Jack, laughed and Ruth shrugged her shoulders.

"The thing is quite impossible, Frank!" Ruth argued. "I don't mean to doubt your word, but Mr. Colter could not have lived on the ranch all these years without finding out whether there was gold in the creek."

"Oh, yes, I could, Ruth," Jim answered slowly. "I told you I didn't know a chunk of gold from a lump of mud. I—" Jim always talked slowly, but to-night it seemed as though his words would never come—"I ain't one to go off half cocked and I'm a pretty hard fellow to convince of good luck, but I believe what Kent has found out is true. I have been puzzling my brains ever since we come home to know why this man Harmon is so anxious to buy our ranch that he will give almost any price for it and why he has had Joe Dawson hanging around here all summer. Seems like I kind'er guess now. Dawson found the gold lode and Harmon thought it would be a good business to buy the ranch and take his chances on striking it rich before we got on to things. Girls, you've got to take Mr. Kent's advice and keep this discovery a secret until we find out for sure if there is enough gold on the ranch for us to get happy." Jim lowered his voice. "Who can we send for to investigate for us, whom we can trust with our secret?"

"Ralph Merrit," Jean suggested.

"Ralph Merrit, the very man!" Jim replied instantly. "Who would have thought of your having so much practical sense, Jean? But don't get excited over this business, for heaven's sake, don't get excited," he repeated, charging up and down the room like a lion. "I tell you all is not gold that glitters and there is many a slip between——"

"The creek and the lip, Jim," Jean ended roguishly, and everybody laughed and went away to dream; Ruth and Jim of something even more important than the discovery of a gold mine.