Driving off thirty miles into the wilderness was nothing in the opinion of these Westerners; but to the girls from Briarwood Hall, and their brothers, the trip promised all kinds of excitement. And they enjoyed every mile of the journey through the foothills. There was something new and strange (to the Easterners) to see almost every mile, and Jane Ann, or Jib, was right there to answer questions and explain the wonders.
At first they saw miles upon miles of range, over which fed the Silver Ranch herds. Heretofore Ruth and her friends had not realized the size of the ranch itself and what it meant to own fifty thousand cattle.
“Why!” exclaimed Heavy, with some awe. “Your uncle, Nita, is richer than Job—and the Bible says he was the greatest of all the men of the East! He only owned seven thousand sheep and three thousand camels and a thousand oxen and five hundred she-asses. Why, I believe there are more creatures in that one herd yonder than poor old Job owned.”
“I guess that was a pretty good herd for ’way down there in Arabia, and so long ago,” returned Jane Ann. “But cattlemen have learned a lot since those times. I expect Uncle Bill has got more ponies than Job had mules.”
“And the men who looked after Job’s cattle were a whole lot different from those fellows,” cried Helen, from the forward buckboard, pointing to a couple of well-mounted punchers spurring after a score of strays that had broken away from the main herd. “Dear me, how recklessly they ride!”
“But I guess that all cowboys have been reckless and brave,” said Ruth, quickly. “Somehow, herding cattle on the open plains and hills seems to make for rugged character and courage. Think of King David, and lots of those Biblical characters. David was a cowboy, and went out and slew Goliath. And I expect any of these punchers we see around here wouldn’t be afraid of a giant,” she concluded.
“Huh!” snapped The Fox, who usually found something sharp to say in comment upon Ruth’s speeches, “I guess these cowboys aren’t any better than the usual run of men. I think they’re rather coarse and ugly. Look at this half Indian ahead of us.”
“What do you mean—him?” exclaimed Tom Cameron, who was pretty well disgusted with The Fox and her sly and sneering ways. “Why, he’s got a better education than most of the men you meet. He stood high at Carlisle, in his books as well as athletics. You wouldn’t scoff at any other college-bred fellow—why at Jib?”
“Indian,” said Mary Cox, with her nose in the air.
“His folks owned the country-the whole continent!” cried the excited Tom, “until white men drove them out. You’d consider an Englishman, or a German, or a Belgian, with his education, the equal of any American. And Jib’s a true American at that.”