When Walter saw the small rifle tucked into a case under Rhoda's knee he expressed the wish that he had brought his own rifle West.
"Do you know, I never thought of it! You're not expecting to shoot
Indians, are you, Rhoda?" he said jokingly.
"You never can tell," she replied, smiling. "But they say I am a pretty good shot. I don't expect to shoot an Indian."
"I can shoot, too," said Grace quickly. "Walter taught me last year."
"Mercy! what did you shoot with, Grace?" demanded Bess. "A squirt-gun?"
"A pistol and Walter's rifle. I know I'm awfully scared of 'em, but
I wanted to know which was the more dangerous end of a gun."
"Bravo!" cried Nan, laughing.
"Why, if you want, I can supply you all with firearms," said Rhoda. "There are plenty at the ranch. And the boys most always lug around a 'gat,' as they call 'em, because of the coyotes."
"Oh, dear me! are they dangerous?" demanded Grace.
"The coyotes? Only to stray calves and lame cattle. We seldom see anything more dangerous. And as long as you are on horseback you are perfectly safe, anyway, even from a lion."