“Yes. He’s got a Chink named Hop Lung; a pretty good sort of a chap, too.”
They crossed two more hills and then passed through a patch of tall timber. Here there was a rough wagon road, and the foreman explained that it was used for hauling firewood to the ranch house and the bunkhouse.
It was growing dark when the party on horseback approached the ranch. Already lights were streaming from the windows and the automobile stood in front of the wide veranda which ran around two sides of the building.
“They got here ahead of us,” announced Jack.
“I thought they would,” answered the foreman. “The river road is in pretty good shape just now, so I suppose the boss made fast time in driving over.”
“The trail to the ranch was rougher than I expected,” put in Andy. “If you tried to run a horse over it he would most likely break a leg and maybe you would break your neck.”
“I’ve known one of our boys to go over to the station inside of twenty minutes,” returned the foreman. “But he only did it to catch a train and on a bet. I’d rather take my time and save my horseflesh.”
When they reached the ranch Mrs. Powell came out on the veranda to greet her son and his chums. She was a round-faced, motherly woman, and she immediately did all she could to make the young folks feel at home.
“You must be thoroughly tired out from your long trip,” said she. “So we will have supper right away, and then if any of you want to go to bed you can do so.”
“I can’t say that I’m tired,” answered Jack. “But I suppose the girls are and maybe Aunt Grace is, too.”