Saturday found the old worn–out ranch vastly renewed. All the débris had been burned; new fences, sheds, corrals, newly shingled roofs, shone in the sun; a large barn was under course of construction; and other improvements attested to Hart Blaine’s energy and management.

The end of this eventful week brought two other circumstances, both disturbing to Ina. The first was the arrival of Less Setter, subtly more forceful and bold than ever, showing in his sleek blond features and suave tones something of hidden power and confidence that heretofore had been veiled. He presented himself before Ina with all the assurance of Sewell McAdam, as an equal, as one who always got what he wanted. Ina saw that her father was as blind as a bat where this man was concerned. And for the few moments before she could escape, when she had to be courteous, she raged in impotent fury.

The other circumstance affected Ina quite as powerfully but in an immeasurably different way. Marvie was her informant and his jubilance permeated her like a breath of fresh air. “Gee, Ina—whatju think?” he panted, evidently having run to her with the news. “Ben Ide come home—to–day. Bill Sneed rode in—just now—an’ I heard him tell dad. Bill said Ben an’ his Modoc Indian—drove a bunch of wild horses—into Ben’s river pasture. An’ Bill was sure spoutin’. ‘Dingest purtiest lot of hosses I ever seen in my life. One was a black stallion an’ he shore hit me as hard as California Red.’ … There, Ina, that’s what Bill Sneed said.”

Ina was glad the dusk hid her face from this keen little brother. She felt concerned about it and the strange rioting thrill that coursed through her.

“An’, Ina,” went on the lad, “Less Setter heard Bill tell dad. I was keepin’ my eyes an’ ears peeled, you can bet. An’ I wish you could have seen Setter look at dad. But all he said was, ‘Blaine, I’ll take some boys an’ ride over there to–morrow.’ Dad pulled him in the cabin an’ shut the door. I listened by the window, but couldn’t hear nothin’. Now I’m goin’ back an’ hang around.”

“Marvie, be very careful,” whispered Ina, trembling for she knew not what.

“I’ll be like an Indian,” asserted Marvie, loftily. “Less Setter doesn’t dream I’m anythin’ but a stupid kid. Neither does dad.”

Then he darted off, leaving Ina a prey to conflicting thoughts. She went to sleep, however, before Marvie returned from the ranch; and next morning he was gone with the cowboys before she awoke.

Ina was destined to miss Marvie for quite another reason, which presented itself in the shape of Sewell McAdam on his regular Sunday visit. Now Marvie had always been her ally in extricating her from embarrassing situations, and he had deserted her to go fishing. Ina had depended upon being free from McAdam’s attentions during the summer months. It was too exasperating. She had reached the end of her patience. An instant decision to tell him flatly that she would not waste any more precious time listening to his inane conceited talk acquainted Ina with the development of her revolt.