"I wasn't running away!" she declared, suppressing a chuckle. "Honest, I wasn't. It's field day. I've been doing stunts and I just ached for a real, regular ride. It's so grand to be astride a horse and feel the world is yours! When did you come home?"

"I haven't come home. I am on my way to Fowler's to subpoena a witness, and I rode this way meaning to stop but a moment. I came over the big hill just as you rode into the ring."

She stole a look at his impa.s.sive face.

"And you saw the sports?"

"Yes; and rode on after you--"

"Because you feared your prisoner might be taking French leave? No; this is the end of the rainbow to me. I have no desire to leave--at present."

They were riding slowly on.

"Where did you learn to ride?"

"I don't remember; it was so long ago."

"_That_ was circus riding."

"It did look like it," she said deprecatingly.

"If you can ride like that, why did you leave the circus for the life--"

"Of a crook?" she finished. "Suppose I stole a horse and sold it and had to vamoose. Even circus managers don't employ thieves."

"Who gave you permission to ride to-day?" he demanded.

She pulled from the pocket of her blouse a program and handed it to him.

"You see I was featured," she explained modestly.

He read it with a frown expressive of displeasure.

"Did Mrs. Kingdon know you were going to do this?"

"No one but one of the men knew."

"How did you come to meet the men?"

"The children introduced me to one of them and I met the others at the dance. I never knew what dancing really meant until then. I've learned to play a very gamey game, too. c.r.a.ps."

With a jerk Kurt brought his horse to a halt and reaching over caught her bridle as she was about to spur her horse onward.

"Did you tell Mrs. Kingdon everything?" he asked sternly.

"Everything I could remember," she replied demurely. "Far more than I told you."

"What did she say?"

"She is going to talk to you and ask you to leave the entire matter in her hands."

He broke the short silence that followed.

"Dancing, c.r.a.ps and bronco-breaking are not what I brought you here for."

"But I've done lots of other things, too. Sewed three days straight, learned how to make salads, heard the children's lessons, picked flowers and getting wise to a home atmosphere every minute. You won't send me away?"

He was scowling at the program again.

"Why are you called Penny Ante?"

"You object to all of my names. But this one was Betty's fault. She introduced me as 'Aunt Penny,' and of course they put it backward."

"Who do they think you are?"

"Your 'lady friend' here for a visit," she answered with the little giggle that always offended him. Then, appeasingly: "Mrs. Kingdon said it would be better if only you and she knew who I am and why I am here at the ranch."

"Go back to the house," he directed. "I'll be home in a few days."

Obediently she turned her horse and he rode in the opposite direction.

"Kurt--Mr. Walters!" she called entreatingly.

He turned in his saddle and waited until she rode back to him.

"There is something I want to tell you," she said, her eyes downcast, a faint note of exultation in her voice. "I haven't taken a thing--or tried to--or wanted to--since I've been here, and I've had lots of chances."

Receiving no reply, she looked up pleadingly, and was startled at the transformation in his eyes, which were usually narrow, cold and of steel-gray shade, but now were dark, shining and full of infinite pity as they looked down into hers.

"I am glad to hear it," he said gently. "You know that was why I brought you here. Now you must do more for me. You mustn't mingle with the men, or repeat to-day's program. I want you to be like her--a house-woman.

Good-bye--until I come home."

He rode swiftly away, and she laughed softly to herself, stopping suddenly.

"It isn't so funny after all; it's really pathetic. But--a house-woman! Ye G.o.ds! That is the last thing I want to be--or could be. It's all well for a novelty, but for steady diet--oh, me! If Hebby could have heard the law laid down to me, he'd be overcome with glee. Poor old Heb! I bet he is still frothing at the mouth because I gave him such a neat slip. I seem, however, to have only succeeded in changing keepers."

She rode on, her conscience smiting her now and then when she recalled the look in Kurt's eyes.

"I don't deserve pity from him or anyone," she thought a little sadly.

She made no mention at Top Hill of having met the foreman. Notwithstanding his orders, for three days she revelled in the companionship of Jo and the men.

"We must harvest all the hay we can," she told him, "while Kind Kurt is away."

On the evening of the third day, she found herself watching the hill road from town.

"I feel like Sister Anne," she thought. "It's odd, why I am wanting him to return, for when he does, my fun will be nipped in the bud. It may be the feeling of a dog for its master that I have acquired for my sheriff man.

Jo will be going soon to Westcott's. I think I will play up to Kind Kurt and then tell him what I revealed to Mrs. Kingdon. Wow!"