Min’s viands could only be praised, and the party made a hearty supper.
As dusk mantled them about, Tom suddenly saw a spark of light out across the plain to the south.
“What’s yonder?” he asked. “I thought you said there was no house near here, Miss Peters?”
“Gee! if you don’t stop calling me that,” gasped their guide, “I certainly will go crazy. I ain’t used to it. But that ain’t a house.”
“What is it, then?” asked the abashed Tom.
“One of the Lazy C outfits I reckon. Didn’t you see the cattle grazin’ yonder when we come over that last ridge?”
“Oh, my! a regular herd of cattle such as you read about?” demanded Sally Blanchard. “And real cowboys with them?”
“I s’pect they think they’re real enough,” replied Min, dryly. “Punchin’ steers ain’t no cinch, lemme tell you.”
“Doesn’t she talk queerly?” said Rebecca, in a whisper. “She really doesn’t seem to be a very proper person.”
“My goodness!” gasped Jennie Stone, choked with laughter at this. “What do you expect of a girl who’s lived in the mines all her life? Polite, Back-Bay English and all the refinements of the Hub?”