But both halted on the platform as they were about to descend the steps. They heard Carson’s voice, loud and argumentative:
“There’s a lady aboored, I tell ye! If ye shoot, you’re a lot of damned rapscallions, an’ I’ll come up there an’ bate the head off ye!”
“Stow your gab an’ produce the lady!” answered a voice. It came from above, and Rosalind stepped down to the floor of the cut and looked upward. On the crest of the southern wall were a dozen men—cowboys—armed with rifles, peering down at the car. They shifted their gaze to her when she stepped into view, and one of them laughed.
“Correct, boys,” he said; “it’s a lady.” There was a short silence; Rosalind saw the men gather close—they were talking, but she could not hear their voices. Then the man who had spoken first stepped to the edge of the cut and called: “What do you want?”
The girl answered: “I want to speak with Mr. Trevison.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” came back the voice; “but Trevison ain’t here—he’s at the Diamond K.”
Rosalind reached a decision quickly. “Aunty,” she said; “I am going to the Diamond K.”
“I forbid you!” said Agatha sternly. “I would not trust you an instant with those outlaws!”
“Nonsense,” smiled Rosalind. “I am coming up,” she called to the man on the crest; “do you mind?”
The man laughed. “I reckon not, ma’am.”