“And think how much we demand,” said Ruth thoughtfully.  “Welladay!  Maybe we have too much—­too much of the good things of the earth.”

“Bah!” exclaimed Helen, with disgust.  “One can’t get too much of the good things.  No, ma’am!  Take all you can——­”

“And give nothing?” suggested Ruth, shaking her head.

“Nobody can say with truth that you are selfish, Ruthie Fielding,” put in Jennie.  “In fact, you are always giving, and never taking.”

Ruth laughed at this.  “You are wrong,” she said.  “The more you give the more you get.  At least, I find it so.  And we are getting right now, on this trip to the great Northwest, much more than we are giving.  I feel as though I would be condemned if I did not do something for these hard-working people who are doing their part in developing this country—­the settlers, and even the timbermen.”

“You want to be a lady Santa Claus to that bunch of roughnecks at Benbow Camp, do you?” laughed Jennie.

“Well, I would like to help somebody besides Wonota.  What do you hear from your New York dressmaker about Wonota’s new outfit, Jennie?”

“It will be shipped right out here to Clearwater before long,” announced the plump girl, with new satisfaction.  “Won’t Wonota be surprised?”

“And delighted!” added Helen, showing satisfaction too.

At that very moment they rode out of a patch of wood which had hidden from the girls’ eyes a piece of lowland fringed by a grove of northern cottonwood trees.  On the air was borne a deep bellow—­a sound that none of the three had noted before.

“What is that?” demanded Helen, startled and half drawing in her snorting pony.

“Oh, listen!” cried Jennie.  “Hear the poor cow.”

Ruth was inclined to doubt.  “When you hear a ‘cow’ bellowing in this country, look out.  It may be a wild steer or a very ugly bull.  Let us go on cautiously.”

All three of the ponies showed signs of trepidation, and this fact added to Ruth’s easily aroused anxiety.

“Have a care,” she said to Helen and Jennie.  “I believe something is going on here that spells danger—­for us at least.”

“It’s down in the swamp.  See the way the ponies look,” agreed Jennie.

They quickly came to a break in the cottonwood grove on the edge of the morass.  Instantly the ponies halted, snorting again.  Ruth’s tried to rear and turn, but she was a good horsewoman.

“Oh, look!” squealed Helen.  “A bear!”

“Oh, look!” echoed Jennie, quite as excited.  “A bull!”

“Well, I declare!” exclaimed Ruth, her hands full for the moment with the actions of her mount.  “One would think you were looking at a picture of Wall Street—­with your bulls and your bears I Let me see—­do!”

CHAPTER XXII

IN THE CANYON

Ruth wheeled her mount the next moment and headed it again in the right direction.  She saw at last what had caused her two companions such wonder.