“There are plenty of kiotes in the hills,” said Jane Ann. “And sometimes a gray wolf. The boys once in a while see cats about—in calving time, you know. But I reckon they’re mighty scarce.”
“Cats?” cried Heavy. “Do you shoot cats?”
“Pumas,” explained Jane Ann. “They’re some nasty when they’re re’l hungry.”
“Oh, I don’t want to see any more of the wildcat tribe,” Ruth cried. “I had my fill of them last winter at Snow Camp.”
Tom of course was to drive the buckboard in which his twin and Ruth rode; but the chums certainly would not have chosen Mary Cox for the fourth member of the party. However, The Fox usually knew what she wanted herself, and got it, too! She liked Master Tom and wished to ride beside him; and the instant she learned which pair of ponies he was to drive, she hopped into the front seat of that buckboard.
“I’m going to sit with you, Tom,” she said, coolly. “I believe you’ve got the best ponies. And you can drive better than Bob, too.”
Tom didn’t look overjoyed, and Helen, seeing the expression of her twin’s face, began to giggle. There was, however, no polite way of getting rid of The Fox.
In a few minutes they were off, Jib Pottoway heading the procession, and Ricardo, the Mexican, bringing up the rear with the mule cart.
“You keep a sharp eye on them younguns, Jib!” bawled Bill Hicks, coming to the door of the ranch-house in his stocking feet and with his hair touseled from his early morning souse in the trough behind the house. “I’ll hold you responsible if anything busts—now mind ye!”
“All right, Boss,” returned the Indian stolidly. “I reckon nothin’ won’t bite ’em.”