Standing in the door of the tent, Harry stared out over the desert where the Sheriff had disappeared.  
"Dear me!" she exclaimed. "It seems that out here in the desert you have to know more and think quicker and be generally all-around smarter to be good for anything than you do back East, where every one is supposed to know everything that's worth while."
 
All during the afternoon, no matter what she happened to be doing, her thoughts returned to that curious and not very flattering conclusion. She recalled to mind the different people she had met in the short time she had been in Idaho. They had all been "onto their job," as they would have said. Even when they were not naturally qualified for their work, they were self-reliant and resourceful.
 
Harry's great desire now was to find a way to help Rob. She looked round the vast expanse of untilled acres; neither her hand nor her brain was yet capable of attacking that work. She turned and surveyed the inside of the tent, and the spirit of all her New England ancestors rose up in protest within her. Gazing helplessly at the dishes of half-eaten food, the piles of canned goods, the eggs and butter heaped under the table because there was no other place for them, she saw in her mind her New England home,[Pg 108] with its cellars, cupboards, storerooms, and pantries. Of all the housekeeping necessities for which this chaotic tent cried to her, it cried loudest for a pantry. Who could keep house without a pantry?
 
What, she wondered, had Mrs. Robinson done for a pantry when she had started housekeeping in her one-room "shack"? Harry's thoughts shifted to the ranch house, and the Robinsons' cheerful slapdash way of doing the day's work. She remembered helping Vashti bring in the butter and milk from the side-hill cellar.
 
A cellar! Laughing, Harry ran down to the garden. She came back with the shovel and grub hoe, and went on to the stream where the bank rose steeply on the other side into the slope of the hill.
 
At first her enthusiasm made the work seem easy. It was fun to drag the stones from the bank, to tear out roots and bushes, and gradually to see a cave shape itself. Of course it would be only a miniature cave, just large enough to hold a wooden packing box on end; but she could keep there butter and eggs and milk, and perhaps a few dishes.
 
Before she realized it the sun was low, the pigs were squealing for their supper, and her hands were badly blistered.
 
Well along in the afternoon of the next day, Harry was still digging bravely at her cellar. It was not enthusiasm now, but determination, that kept her at her task. She stood in the water and chopped doggedly[Pg 109] at the roots. Sometimes she stopped to wipe her hot face on her sleeve, or to give her hair another twist.
 
"About a dozen shovelfuls," she said suddenly aloud, "and it will be finished."
 
"What'll be finished?"
 
"Oh!" With a cry Harry whirled round and faced Rob, who stood on the opposite bank grinning with amusement at the muddy, disheveled young person before him.
 
"Rob! You mean thing! How you scared me! When did you come? I didn't hear you."
 
"No wonder, making such a racket yourself. What's that? A playhouse?"
 
"A playhouse! That's a cellar." She dropped her work and walked back to the tent with him. "Well, it's good to see you. What has happened? What did Raeburn say?"
 
"Oh, not much. Gave me some good advice."
 
"What about Jones? Oh, yes, I forgot. The sheriff was here from Shoshone. He stopped here to ask you about those colts. He has them down in town."
 
"Yes, I know. I saw them last night."
 
"Well, then, you know more than I do."
 
"I know you've thought I was pretty mean, sis," Rob said, after a moment's silence, "not to tell you all about this business at the start. It wasn't because I didn't trust you; it was simply to save you from having to answer questions that you couldn't have [Pg 110]answered honestly without giving everything away. But now it's all settled and you can know what we've been doing.
 
"First, I suppose you'd like to know who Jones is. I met him winter before last when we were both working on the new railway out of Shoshone. Jones had taken a subcontract under Grant, the man who had the whole job from the company, and from the start everything was against him: he struck rock, lost a team, and was laid up sick for a couple of weeks. He just lost out all around.
 
"Well, when he came to quit he hadn't a cent and was about five hundred dollars in debt besides. Grant got out a judgment against him for supplies, and there Jones was, with his whole winter's work shot to nothing.
 
"He worked at odd jobs during the summer. Then when he heard of that government ditch up in the northern part of the state, he hiked up there. He worked there all winter, got good pay, and saved some money. He'd written to me, off and on, and I saw he was worried about that money he owed. He wanted to pay it, but if he came back and paid up everything, he'd be cleaned out. If he could only invest it and make a little profit on it, he could pay his debts just the same and have a little left over to start on. He'd had such hard luck and worried so hard it seemed only fair.
 
"I happened to think of bringing horses in to sell. A work team fetches a good price down round Jerome and Twin Falls, where the new settlers are coming in.[Pg 111] So we went into partnership on a bunch of horses. Jones went across into Oregon and got some colts cheap and brought 'em down here."
 
"But why did you have to keep it a secret?"
 
"Why, because, if his creditors had found out that he had a bunch of horses, they'd have attached the whole lot of them and sold them in auction for whatever they could get."
 
"But if he had sold them to you——"
 
"Yes, that's exactly why he did sell them to me; 'consideration one dollar.' Of course, he and I understood that they were really his, but legally they were mine, and no one could take them from me to settle his debts; but to be on the safe side we kept the colts up in the draw and worked with them only in the early morning and late afternoon, when there wasn't much danger of cattle men coming through. Well, everything was going fine, until one day when Jones was off looking up business he met a fellow he'd known on the railway that winter. Of course the fellow wanted to know how Jones was doing. Jones forgot himself and told more than he meant to. The other fellow was on his way to Shoshone then, and he said more than he should have. Grant heard about it, and by the time Jones had got back from Jerome, Grant had sent the sheriff after the horses."
 
"But why didn't Mason come down to see you?" exclaimed Harry. "What a strange thing to do—come and drive the horses off your land without a word!"
 
 
 
"But he didn't know that they were mine, or that they were on my land."
 
"Well, how did they know where to find them? Jones didn't tell that fellow exactly where they were, did he?"
 
"Of course not. It was through Joyce they found out. He was in town, at Mason's office, when Grant came in to send the sheriff after the colts, and Joyce remembered seeing them up there in the draw near the big quaking asp. Every one knows that tree, so it was easy for Mason to find the horses. It was dusk when he got there, and so I don't suppose he even thought of looking round to see whether any one lived down below in the cañon."
 
"Well, anyhow, if they're yours legally, why can't you go down and prevent Grant from selling them?"
 
"I thought of that. But Jones said not to—I talked with him on the telephone last night. We've sold half the bunch already, and the market is as good now as it ever will be, and rather than have any mix-up he thinks it's better to let Grant sell off the rest as quick as he can. We've made a good profit already, and so long as Jones is satisfied, I am. I got him into the scheme, so I felt that I had to stand by him to the finish."
 
"You certainly did!" exclaimed Harry. "It isn't every one who would go to jail for a man who is almost a stranger. Lose all that time and gain nothing by it!"
 
"Didn't I gain anything?" Rob looked at her oddly. "Didn't we, rather?"
 
"Didn't we?" she repeated, puzzled.
 
"Sure. Wasn't it by coming over to bring me that bill that you found out all about Boykin Hunter and the chance to contest his filing?"
 
"Sure enough. I'd forgotten. How did his case come out? Did he get the six months he deserved?"
 
"Not yet. Joyce was there, and he made a big powpow; said he could bring witnesses to prove that Boykin was a noble character, that he wouldn't hurt a fly, and so on. Asked for a stay until next court. Garnett says that's to give him time to chase round and find another man to put on that land. He's going to keep an eye on him,—Garnett on Joyce, I mean,—and if anything suspicious seems to be brewing, he'll chase down here and warn us."
 
"That's nice of him, isn't it? You aren't mad at him any longer?"
 
"At Garnett? Of course not. I was sore at him for being so bull-headed about his horse; but of course he was right to hang on to his suspicions until they were proved wrong. He was there this morning in court. He saw Mason last night, too, and learned the whole story about this horse deal. Yes, Garnett's a good fellow. It's fellows like him and old Dan Brannan that show a fellow what the West really is—the place where the man himself counts every time."
 
He got up and stretched himself. "I think I'll drive over to Soldier to-morrow and get a load of lumber.[Pg 114] It's too dry to plow, and it won't be long before I'll be going haying and harvesting. If I get the lumber in now, we'll be ready to start building the house early in September."
 
"Where shall we put the house? I wish we could have it farther up the glen, near the trees."
 
"Let's g............