“You mean the girl who ‘bossed’ the affair?” asked Tom, curiously.
“Yep. The other girl seemed jest driftin’ along with her. She knowed how to ride, and she brought her own saddle and rope with her. But that there tenderfoot started off sidesaddle, like a missioner.”
“A ‘missioner?’” repeated Ruth, curiously.
“These here women that sometimes come here teachin’ an’ preachin’. They most all of ’em ride sidesaddle. Many of ’em on a burro at that. ’Cause a burro don’t never git out of a walk if he kin help it. But I’ve purty near broke my neck teachin’ four or five of the ponies to stand for a sidesaddle—poor critters. I rid ’em with a blanket wrapped ’round me to git ’em used to a skirt flappin’,” and she spoke in some amusement.
“Well,” Ruth said, more briskly, “I don’t exactly understand those girls going without us. One of them I am sure is our friend. The girl who evidently engaged your father is not a stranger to us; but she was not of our party.”
“What in tarnation takes you ‘way into them mountains to Freezeout?” demanded Min Peters. “There ain’t a sign of color left there, so pop says; and he’s prospected all through the range on that far side. Why, he remembers Freezeout when it was a real camp. And I kin tell you there ain’t much left of it now.”
“Oh!” cried Ruth. “Have you seen it?”
“Sure. I been all through the Range with pop. He didn’t have nobody to leave me with when I was little. I ain’t never had no chance like other girls,” said Min, in no very pleasant tone. “Why I ain’t scurcely human, I reckon!”
At that Ruth laughed frankly at her. “What nonsense!” she cried. “You are just as human and just as much of a girl as any of us. As I am. Your clothes don’t even hide the fact that you are a girl. But I suppose you wear them because you can work easier in men’s garments?”
“And that’s where you s’pose mighty wrong,” snapped Min.