“Well!” ejaculated Ina, with difficulty controlling the flash of resentment that swept over her. “Marvie, I don’t like that,” she added, deliberating.

“Neither do I,” rejoined the lad, stoutly. “An’ worse than that I hate the way Setter looks at you, Ina. Goodness knows I thought that McAdam fellar was hard enough to stand. But Setter’s different…. I wish I was older an’ bigger.”

“Marvie, you’re fine, just as you are,” said Ina, sweetly. “We’ve a secret between us. I—almost hate Mr. Setter myself. I’m afraid he is not what dad thinks. And between them they are going to injure Ben Ide…. Marvie, Ben was—is a dear old friend. I don’t believe what they say about him.”

“Ina, I’m for Ben any day, an’ you can bet on that,” replied Marvie.

“That’s fine, Marvie. I don’t believe you will be sorry. Let’s keep our eyes and ears open. It’s not dishonest, considering what we believe is injustice to Ben Ide. Let’s play a game, Marvie.”

Ina did not explain just what kind of a game she meant; nevertheless Marvie fell into it with an air of intense eagerness and importance.

“Don’t tell Dall nothin’,” he said, finally. “She’s only a girl an’ can’t be trusted. An’ she’s afraid of dad.”

At the end of this little conversation Ina found that, no matter what had heretofore been the state of her mind regarding Mr. Setter, she was now convinced of his crookedness. This related to his business relations with her father; she had long been satisfied that both she and Hettie Ide were objects of Less Setter’s dishonest intentions.

Ina spent the day packing, with frequent periods of abstraction, part of which were so dreamy and pleasant that she felt guilty of being very happy over this summer–camp plan.

Next morning before sunrise she and Marvie were off on horseback at the head of a string of pack horses and wagons. Marvie was not only good company, but also served somewhat to embarrass the several ambitious cowboys who approached Ina on every possible occasion. Ina liked them, and liked their company, except when they got what Marvie called “sweet on her.”

Riding in the early morning was delightful, and the long winding dusty road toward the sage hills was not formidable. But when the flat country lay behind and the ascent of the great basin slope began and the sun grew hot, then it was different. It became work, yet not without satisfying sense of achievement. At noon the cavalcade had crossed the divide between two of the huge sage hills and found easier travel downward. Presently Blaine ordered a halt at the last ranch on the north side of Wild Goose Lake. The owner’s name was Blake, and like all poor ranchers in that country he was, as a cowboy tersely put it, “holdin’ on heah by the skin of her teeth.” They rested and had lunch in the shade. Ina was pleased with Marvie’s keenness when the boy whispered to her: “Did you see we wasn’t very welcome? This fellar Blake is scared of dad.” For her own observation tallied exactly with Marvie’s.