git down to facts with her—she won't let me."
"If I were a great, big man," said Ruth, her eyes dancing, "I surely wouldn't let a little wisp of a girl like Miss Dickson get away from me—if I wanted her."
"How am I goin' to he'p it?" cried Ike, in despair. "She's jest as sassy as a cat-bird. Ye can't be serious with her. She plumb slips out o' my fingers ev'ry time I try to hold her."
"You are going to the dance at the schoolhouse, aren't you?" asked Ruth.
"I reckon."
"Can't you get her to dance with you? And when you're dancing can't you ask her? Come right out plump with it."
"Why, when I'm a-dancin'," confessed Ike, "I can't think o' nawthin' but my feet."
"Your feet?" cried Ruth.
Yes, ma'am. They're so e-tar-nal big I gotter keep my mind on 5 em all the time, or I'll be steppin' on Sally's. An' if I trod on her jest wunst—wal, that would suah be my finish with her. She ain't got that red hair for nawthin'," concluded the woeful cowpuncher.
Ike was not alone at the Silver Ranch in looking forward to the party at the schoolhouse. Every man who could be spared of the — X o outfit ("Bar-Cross-Naught") planned to go to the Crossing Saturday night. Such a rummaging
