a rival. There could be no doubt that his affections were already anchored.
"Miss Arnold and Miss McKenzie were friends at Vassar College," explained Ruthven, "and I have been requested, as a friend of Miss Arnold, to make the acquaintance of Miss McKenize. Miss Arnold seems to have the idea that the rugged life of the ranch will make a barbarian out of me unless I have the, refining influences of feminine society.
"Bless her heart, Summerfield," he continued; "so long as I have such beautiful memories of her to cheer my mortal existence, nothing else is necessary to keep me in the straight and narrow way. But she has spoken, and I obey. It—it will give me a chance to write more frequently. I wonder if you get that?"
Impulsively Summerfield reached across the table and caught Ruthven's hand in a firm and understanding grip. "It will give me the greatest pleasure, old man," he answered. "We understand each other, I think."
Glances crossed, and smiles came to each face. "I think so," said Ruthven, with emphasis. "If you can't go with me to McKenzie's to-night, when can you go?"
"As I told you," went on Summerfield, "I am working this evening; but Lois said she would call on me at the office. She does that occasionally, when the grind keeps me rather late; and then I walk home with her. She dropped in to-day to tell me that she would see me at the office this evening."
"Bully!" exclaimed Ruthven. "You can do the formal thing, and then, later on, perhaps I can call with you at the house."
"That's the ticket exactly! By the way, Lois mentioned your name when she saw me. Miss Arnold has written to her about you, so you're expected."
"That couldn't be better. When do you want me to show up at the office?"
"Make it nine o'clock."
"I'll be there."
Supper over, Ruthven went to the hotel to write some letters, and Summerfield returned to his office and got busy with his books and papers. At eight-thirty Lois came, and sat near while he finished his labors. Then, when he had put away his books, he went over to the drug store for two dishes of ice cream. They preferred eating the ice cream comfortably by themselves in the office. Summerfield then told Lois about Ruthven.
"You'll like him," he declared. "Everybody does. He has a way of taking a person by storm, you might say. He is a college man, and his father is rich and contracts for improvements of various kinds all over the world. Nobody seems to know just why the son is putting in his time in this out-of-the-way corner of the country, but he's surprising everybody by the way he does things on Barton's Ranch No. 2."
"He helped out an unfortunate friend in the East," said Lois, "and got dismissed from a School of Mines on account of it. His father sent him to Montana—by way of punishment, I suppose. Also his father cut down his usual allowance, and Mr. Ruthven then refused to take any allowance at all." Her eyes sparkled. "That is the sort of man he is, Joe."
"Paragon, eh?" returned Joe grumpily.
She laughed, and leaned forward to box his ears gently. "I can tell, from the way Gwen writes, just how the land lies," she went on. "Lewis Ruthven is her knight, without fear and without reproach. We must do what we can to make life pleasant for him out here, Joe."
Before Summerfield could answer, Ruthven came in, and the formality of an introduction was gone through. Summerfield left the two chatting in the cage and went out to put away the Bar-
