"Yes, several who have been at the club and at the meetings. They know you are here, Miss Bright. Let's see what they'll do."
Before the meal was over, the stars began to appear in the heavens. John Clayton threw great quantities of driftwood on the bonfire, and in a few moments, the flames were licking the logs.
The voices of the cow-punchers came to them now and then, but the profanity had ceased. Suddenly, singing was heard. They listened. The cowboys were singing, "There were ninety and nine."
From the singing, it was evident that the men were approaching the Clayton camp. In a moment more, they were there.
Would they be seated? John Clayton had asked. So, around the camp fire they grouped, their faces and forms indistinct in the flickering light. They made a weird and picturesque group against the darkness of the night.
"An' phwat do yez think now of a round-up?" asked Mike Maloney, of night school celebrity. Mike had been the star pupil in arithmetic.
"Splendid!" said Esther, with contagious enthusiasm. "To see that host of cattle approach, the ropes swinging, the horses rearing and plunging, and the magnificent setting of the mountains at sunset,—why, it was glorious!"
The men grinned their delight.
Bill Weeks then grew eloquent about cattle.
"We come across a herd o' antelopes to-day," interrupted another.