“Twelve dudes?” repeated Alice. “What in the world do dudes want to do on a ranch?”
Bob—as the young man had informed them his name was—laughed unrestrainedly. “Why, you’re all dudes, or dudeens, on this ranch,” he said, “unless you’re horse-wranglers or cooks. Anybody who boards on a ranch is a dude.”
The girls were relieved at the explanation; they had not particularly enjoyed the prospect of spending the summer with twelve dudes of the conventional type which one sees on the stage.
They were going up a steep incline, with a sharp embankment on one side, and several of the girls felt rather nervous. Marjorie noticed this, and thought it would be better to refrain from asking questions, so that the driver might devote all his attention to his task.
“Just see how barren the country seems,” she said, “no trees at all. Doesn’t it seem funny after being used to Pennsylvania and New York!”
“Yes, we couldn’t find enough dry leaves to fill our bed-sacks if we were camping out all night,” said Lily. “Remember how we used to do on the canoe trip?”
“And shall we ever sleep out all night?” asked Doris, as if she were not in love with the idea.
“Yes, if you want to go on the pack-trips,” replied Bob, who had turned his car into a more level space now, and felt free to talk again.
“And if we want to go to Yellowstone, do we have to sleep out for a week or so at a time?” continued Doris.
“No, because they have regular camps and hotels there, and we don’t bother to take our own equipment,” he answered.