“Who is, then? She has helped to save your life on more than one occasion. She has never said a word about the time she fell off the rocks when we were at Lighthouse Point. You and she were together, and you know how it happened. Oh, I can imagine how it happened. Besides, Nita saw you, and so did Tom Cameron,” cried the stout girl, more hotly. “Don’t think all your tricks can be hidden.”
“What do you suppose I care?” snarled Mary Cox.
“I guess you care what Tom Cameron thinks of you,” pursued Heavy, wagging her head. “But after the way you started those ponies when we drove to Rolling River Cañon, you can be sure that you don’t stand high with him—or with any of the rest of the boys.”
“Pooh! those cowboys! Great, uneducated gawks!”
“But mighty fine fellows, just the same. I’d a whole lot rather have their good opinion than their bad.”
Now all this was, for Jennie Stone, pretty strong language. She was usually so mild of speech and easy-going, that its effect was all the greater. The Fox eyed her in some surprise and—for once—was quelled to a degree.
All these discussions occurred on Monday. The Rolling River Camp was twenty miles away in the direction of the mountain range. Tuesday was the day set for the trip. The party would travel with the supply wagon and a bunch of ponies for the herders, bossed by Maria’s husband. On Wednesday the young folk would return under the guidance of little Ricarde, who was to go along to act as camp-boy.
“But if we like it out there, Uncle Bill, maybe we’ll stay till Thursday,” Jane Ann declared, from her pony’s back, just before the cavalcade left the ranch-house, very early on Tuesday.
“You better not. I’m going to be mighty busy around yere, and I don’t want to be worried none,” declared the ranchman. “And I sha’n’t know what peace is till I see you-all back again.”
“Now, don’t worry,” drawled his niece. “We ain’t none of us sugar nor salt.”