“How about horses, Spouter? We’ll have enough mounts, sha’n’t we?”
“Any good hunting or fishing?”
“Stop! Stop! What are you trying to do?” spluttered Spouter. “Trying to drown me in a flood of questions? Why don’t you ask one thing at a time?”
“Well, where is the ranch and how are we going to get to it?” questioned Jack.
“And how big is it?” put in Fred.
And then came another flood of questions until poor Spouter placed his hands to his ears in dismay.
“I can’t answer everything at once,” he said finally. “So you’d better let me tell what I know in my own way. Big Horn Ranch is located out in Montana, and it comprises a thousand acres or more—how large I don’t exactly know. To get there you journey by rail to a little jumping-off place called Four Rocks, and then you have to ride or drive to the ranch, which is four or five miles away. The nearest town of any size is Arrow Junction, which is quite a distance off.”
“How is it your dad bought a place like that?” broke in Gif. “I didn’t know he was interested in ranches.”
“Oh, he has always liked outdoor life—you all know that. And this ranch came to him in rather an unexpected way. There were two brothers who were interested in a speculation in which my dad was interested, too. My dad advanced a lot of money to these brothers, and as they couldn’t pay up in cash they asked him if he wouldn’t take the ranch off their hands by allowing them an additional thirty thousand dollars. So he made a trip out there in company with another man who knew all about ranches and then he concluded to buy, and did so. So now we own Big Horn Ranch, and the family expects to spend a large part of each summer there.”
“And your father said we could all go out there with you?” questioned Randy.