Dallas thrust it into the pocket of her skirt, took the reins and lifted the black-snake. Ben saw the threatening movement from behind his bridle blinds. He sprang forward. The wheel rolled from under Braden's elbow.
"Well, I'll be damned!" he growled. "Ain't you going to say ta-ta?" He strode along at the tailboard, smirking up at the two in an attempt to be friendly. "Maybe you'd like company going home," he said. "Lonely trip for girls, 'specially when they ain't got a gun." He gave Marylyn a bold wink.
"Thank you," replied Dallas, shortly. "We don't want company—and we have got a gun." She lifted the pistol from the seat.
Braden fell behind. "Stop and drink some beer, anyway," he called. "Got some in here. You mustn't be mad at me because Johnnie's mamma sent for him. Come on back."
To this, no answer was made. Dallas gave the team a few smart cuts. The wagon rumbled out of the street.
And now began the return journey. Five hours had been consumed in reaching Clark's. Ten minutes had been wasted there. Another five would be passed at the first clear water. But allowing for the team's faster gait when they were headed for home, and for twelve miles of downgrade, they should not take more than four hours to reach the bend. Twilight would be settling then.
Dallas figured the return thus—but it was soon plain to her that sunset would find them miles from the shack. Poor feed, with the plowing and the harrowing, had thinned the mules. After the first spurt, they paid no heed to the whip, and fairly crawled. Marylyn, tired, gave way to passionate complaining. Dallas folded a blanket in the bottom of the wagon and coaxed her sister to lie down upon it, her face shielded by the seat. To further dishearten the elder girl, Ben and Betty showed signs of sore-footedness. Guided out upon the grass, they travelled better.
It took three precious hours to gain the summit. The afternoon was then far gone. Across the wide valley, dark clouds were piling upon the western range; they added to its height, and augured the day's early closing. When the Throat gaped alongside, the fleecy horizon had rolled still higher, and beneath it the setting sun showed through like a harvest moon, blood-red.
Swiftly the day withdrew and the stars came out. Then, the breeze lulled, and a mist rose from the coulée's wooded bottom. From it came the tremulous call of an owl. Dallas slipped to her feet and wielded the black-snake vigorously.
The mules shot forward for a wagon-length. The sudden jolt awakened Marylyn. She got to her knees—and there were the cottonwoods with the laden boughs!