“I hope so,” said Marjorie. “And by the way, have you seen anything of the people who are supposed to come to meet us?”
The station-master walked across the platform, and gazed up the hill. Two Ford cars were making their way towards them; and a minute or two later, stopped at the platform. Their drivers—two young men of about eighteen and twenty—both wore the broad-brimmed hats and bright colored shirts and handkerchiefs similar to those which the girls had noticed on the cowboys they had seen from the train windows. Daisy shrunk back at the sight of them, for they did seem a little wild to the Eastern girl, accustomed to the conventional dress of city men; but as soon as they spoke, she was reassured by their voices. They were soft and cultivated, and could not have belonged to an uncouth person.
“Are you the Girl Scouts?” asked the older of the two.
“Yes,” replied Marjorie. “And we’re all here!”
“Good! Pack yourselves in, then!”
The girls proceeded to do as they were told, four of them climbing into each car. They began almost immediately to ask questions.
“How big is the ranch?” inquired Ethel.
“In acres, you mean? Why—”
“No, I don’t care about the number of acres—that means nothing to a girl. I mean how many buildings and how many people?”
“Oh, well, there is one big central cabin, and about eight small living cabins. And there are twelve dudes there now—”