“Mother,” called Hettie, in a voice low and broken, “here’s somebody to see you.”

“Well, child, fetch somebody in,” replied her mother, complacently, from the sitting room.

“No, you’re requested to come out here,” returned Hettie.

There was a moment’s silence, Ben’s heart kept time with the clock. Hettie moved toward the door of the sitting room. Ben heard the sound of a chair pushed back, then slow footsteps, almost feeble, he thought; a shadow crossed the light that shone in this room. Then Ben saw his mother’s face and it seemed all the riot of his heart suddenly ceased.

“Mother!” called Ben, unable to keep silent longer. Two strides brought him into the glare of the lamp. She saw him, recognized him. The grief, the care, the age of her sweet face vanished marvelously.

“Ben! My son—oh, my son!” she cried, holding out her arms.

* * * * *

A little while later Hettie led him out through the yard, now moonlit in places, shadowed in others, to the gate.

“Let’s wait here. I’m expecting some one you might like to see,” said Hettie, drawing him to a bench in the shade. “Oh, Ben! … my prayers are answered. Somehow I knew what mother needed was to see you—and find out what I always felt—that these stories about you are lies. You convinced her. She is a changed woman. Oh, it will all come out well, now. Father can’t help coming round.”

“Humph! He’d never forgive me in a million years,” returned Ben.

“Little you know him! If you made a success of the very thing he hates he’d sing a different tune. Father worships industry, success, money. Too much! Ben, before I forget let me tell you that he and Mr. Setter are going to buy up homesteads out in Forlorn River country. Prick up your ears, Ben. If there’s to be a boom in land and cattle out in your wild–horse range get in on it yourself.”

“Nevada had the same hunch,” replied Ben, thoughtfully. “We each have a homestead, and we can buy up three more. How many acres is five times one sixty?”

“Why, you dunce, eight hundred acres, of course!”

“Whew! That’s a lot of land. But I’ll risk it. I’ll sign up for those three homesteads to–morrow. Moore and Sims are sick of the long dry spell. Want to sell quick and cheap. But I’ve got mighty little money. It may ruin me.”

“It will be the making of you,” declared Hettie, vigorously. “Be sure you have those homesteads when father and Mr. Setter ride out there to buy. I’d like to see their faces…. Ben, I wrote you I didn’t like Mr. Setter. He tried to be too—too familiar with me.”

“That’s something else and worse against Less Setter,” muttered Ben, grimly.

“He is to blame for most of this new talk about you, Ben. For the life of me I can’t see why he should lie about you. He gives me a creepy feeling. But father thinks he’s a big booster for Tule Lake, and he’s thicker than hops with Mr. Blaine.”