One morning Ruth came to the tent door, dressed before any of the girls. She stood for a moment looking about her and then waved her hand to Jim, who was chopping a big log of wood that Carlos had dragged into the camp the night before. "Mr. Jim," she called, "do you think there is any special need of our traveling to-day? The girls and I have been talking things over and we think that we and the horses need a rest. This is such an enchanting place, anyhow, I feel this morning I would like to spend my life here."
Jim stalked over to the tent, with his face as radiant as the morning. He had his arms full of wood, and the string of shining fish over his shoulder showed that he had been up and at work for several hours. "Sure," he agreed heartily. "I'd like nothing better than to loaf a while in this part of the country. I've got some harness to mend and a lot of odd jobs to do, and this is sure the prettiest spot we've seen."
The wagon and horses were a little distance from the ranch girls' tent, but still in plain view. The tent was at the head of a silver stream that ran like a ribbon through a green oasis of "gramma" grass. In the distance rocks that looked like battlements rose on either side of a deep gorge, and dimly seen farther on were hoary old mountain tops with their peaked caps of snow.
Ruth laughed. "An honest confession is good for the soul, isn't it? I should have told you that my real reason for not wishing to move on to-day is that I simply have got to do some housekeeping. My New England soul is racked by the way our pots and pans are looking, and Jean says if she doesn't have a chance to wash the sand out of her hair she will have to cut it off and wear a wig. If you'll make up the fire for me, I'll get breakfast in a minute; the girls already are starving."
"Then why don't one of them come out and help you cook?" Jim demanded autocratically. "I'm plumb afraid they are putting too much of the work on you."
"Injustice, thy name is Jim Colter!" Jack exclaimed at this minute, appearing before the fire with a sleepy look in her gray eyes, and a coffeepot in her hand. "I told Ruth I'd get breakfast this morning, so run away, Ruthie, and help Frieda find her clothes; she is in the depth of despair about one of her shoes. And tell Jean and Olive they must set the table."
Jim swung his fish before Jack's delighted eyes. "I'll cook these, Missie," he said calmly. "I don't believe I care to trust you."
"All right. I'll fry the bacon to go with them," Jack returned in her most professional cook manner. "I like the odor of bacon these mornings in camp better than any flower that blooms. Isn't it great that we have had a whole week of perfect sunshiny weather?"
The camp breakfast did not take much more than half an hour to get, though it was a pretty substantial meal. Coffee and chunks of toasted bread, fish, bacon, marmalade and jam, and this morning fresh water from the near-by spring, formed the menu. It took quite as long to eat, however, as the most elaborate repast served by a fashionable New York hotel. Jim moved over a little nearer the fire to be farther away from the girls when he finished. He got out his favorite pipe and tenderly snuggled the tobacco into it, and Jack saw the thought of the day's chores fade gently from his mind and a reminiscent light come into his eyes. Ruth was no longer overcome by household cares. The day stretched on before them, apparently an endless chain of golden opportunities to do nothing.
"I was around in this neighborhood once before," Jim remarked casually. This was as near as Jim had ever gotten to being confidential, and Jean and Jack exchanged glances.