“Why, that’s absurd, how could you imagine anyone being out here in this deserted place miles and miles from the railroad?”
We were just opposite the house and as if in response to Owen’s question the head and naked breast of a man rose up from behind the weeds. His face was crimson and the thick, black disheveled hair gave him such an aspect of wildness we were appalled.
Owen stopped the horses, the man rose to his feet, calmly looked at us, then turned and walked slowly into the house.
We were speechless. It was like a sudden apparition.
After a moment Owen passed the lines to me.
“Here, Esther, hold the horses while I go in and investigate.”
“Be careful,” was all I could say. There was a chorus of “Don’ts” from the back seat as he got out of the wagon.
I thought of the gun. “Gordon, take your gun and go after your uncle. I know that man is crazy.”
Gordon jumped out and ran toward the house, but before he reached the door we heard a loud burst of singing, a curious rendering of “Ta-rah-rah boom-de-ahy”. In a moment Owen and Gordon reappeared.
“Well, there’s no doubt of his being crazy,” Owen said, “we’ll go to the Bosman ranch where I can get someone to come back with me. I can telephone the Sheriff from there, too.” Then he told us what had happened.