“Dall, despite what Marvie says, your brain seems to be growing along with your legs. You hit it right on the head. Come on; I’ll play with you. And we must not forget to read over your Sunday–school lesson.”

The rest of the morning hours passed swiftly and pleasantly. Perhaps the most pleasant incident for Ina was to see Sewell McAdam drive away with his high–stepping horses and shiny black buggy. Marvie did not return. Mrs. Blaine served dinner outside in the shade of a juniper, but her husband failed to appear. Mother and daughters had dinner to themselves, and Ina reflected that it was the first Sunday meal for weeks at which she had felt at ease. Afterward she and Dall helped their mother wash and dry the dishes. “Your father forgot this was Sunday,” said Mrs. Blaine, complacently. “We always have Sunday dinner at noon. He’ll miss his an’ have to eat with the cowboys.”

Ina spent most of the afternoon in her hammock, reading, dreaming, both wide–eyed and asleep. In truth, her sleeping dreams were disturbed by a very abashed and respectful cowboy who brought a message from her father, requiring her presence at his office at once. Ina, somewhat upset in mind, walked over to the ranch with the cowboy, and took advantage of the few moments to make casual inquiries.

One of the cabins had been fitted up to serve as a living room and office for Mr. Blaine. It did not look very tidy, but it was a pleasant light room, an improvement on the one used for the same purpose at Tule Lake Ranch.

Ina’s father was not in. She glanced at the large table, covered with letters and papers, deeds and contracts, all jumbled together in hopeless confusion. She had often asked her father to let her keep his books, and file his papers for convenience, but he had scouted the idea. He did not need any bookkeeper. Ina, studying that table load of documents, wondered just why her father did not care to have her in his office. Then she heard trotting horses outside. Through the window she espied Setter and three cowboys riding in. Also her father appeared crossing the space between the cabins. Setter intercepted him, and waving the cowboys away, he dismounted and walked beside him toward the office. The window was open, and Ina stood a little back from it. As her father and his partner approached she remained motionless, without compunction attending to their conversation.

“…twenty head of wild horses, half broke,” Setter was saying with enthusiasm. “Ide must have left last night. Anyway, he wasn’t home. His cabin door was nailed shut. But I pried it open. Nice place he’s got, clean as if he had a woman there. Nothin’ there but grub, which we helped ourselves to.”

“Wal, if Ben Ide wasn’t home, of course you couldn’t talk business,” said Blaine, thoughtfully.

“No, but I’ll go again an’ stay till he comes,” rejoined Setter.