They all travelled together in silence until, after a mile and a half on the flat, the road sloped gradually toward a creek shadowed by willows. On the opposite side of the creek were a ranch-house, stables, and corrals, the extent of which brought a glint of surprise to Smith’s eyes.
“That’s where the widder lives who might be sociable inclined if she was hard up,” said the girl, with a sneer which made Smith’s fingers itch to choke her. “Couldn’t coax you to stop, could I?”
“I aims to stay,” Smith replied coolly.
“Sure—it won’t cost you nothin’.”
The girl waited for the wagon, and, with a change of manner in marked contrast to her impudent attitude toward Smith, invited the little man to spend the night at the ranch.
“We should not be intruders?” he asked doubtfully.
“You won’t feel lonesome,” she answered with a laugh. “We keep a kind of free hotel.”
“Colonel, I cakalate we better lay over here,” broke in Tubbs.
His employer winced at this new title, but nodded assent; so they all forded the shallow stream and entered the dooryard together.
“Mother!” called the girl.