The servants included a Chinese cook, Mexican houseboys,
and negroes for the outside work. The life at
Rose Ranch was evidently a rather free and easy existence.
The standards of etiquette were not just the same
as at the Mason house in Chicago; but the Hammonds
knew well how to make their guests feel at home.
The quality of the hospitality of the ranchman and
his wife was not strained.
The party lingered long at dinner, under the glow
of a hanging lamp that illuminated the table but left
the corners and sides of the great room in shadow.
Now and then somebody would lounge in at the doorway
and speak to Mr. Hammond.
“Ah say, Boss, where’d you say Dan’s
outfit was goin’? I plumb forgot.”
“You’d forget your head, Carey, if it
wasn’t screwed on tight,” declared the
ranchman, without glancing at the big figure slouching
in the doorway. “Dan and his bunch light
out for Beller’s Gulch come mornin’.”
A little later it was a lighter step, and the jingle
of spurs on the veranda floor.
“Tumbleweed done sprung his knee, Mist’
Ham-mon’. Kyan’t use him nohow fo’
a while.”
“My lawsy!” ejaculated Rhoda’s father,
“seems to me most of you fellers ain’t
fitted to take care of a saw horse, let alone a sure
enough pony. Some of you will have to ride mules
if you don’t stop ruinin’ my horseflesh.”
“Wal, Tumbleweed is right fidgety,” complained
the cowboy.
“What do you want to ride—somethin’
broke to a side-saddle?” demanded the ranchman
in disgust. “Go rope a new pony out of that
band Hesitation’s just brought up. And be
mighty careful not to get an outlaw. Hess says
there’s two or three in that band that are fresh
out of the hills.”
These side remarks excited Walter. The girls,
too, were interested. Grace said she hoped there
was not any horse as bad as the pony that ran away
at Lakeview, and which Rhoda had stopped so dexterously.
“My dear!” laughed Rhoda, “that
wasn’t a bad pony. She was only frisky.
But Hess shall find you a perfectly safe mount.”
“I hope you will extend that promise to me,”
said Nan, laughing. “If I am to ride I
want something I can stay on.”
“No bucking broncos for me, either,” cried
Bess. “At least, not until I have learned
to ride better than I do at present.”
They went to bed that night wearied after traveling
so far, but much excited as to what the next day would
bring forth.
THE POOR LITTLE CALF
Nan awoke when it was still utterly dark. Nothing
had frightened her, and yet she felt that something
really important was about to happen—something
wonderful! What it could be, she had no idea.
Her imagination was not at all spurring her mind.
She only knew that she was on the verge of a new and
surprising experience.
There were three beds in the big room, and she could
hear Bess and Grace breathing calmly in their own
cots. But she was wide awake.
