“And from all accounts it was some scrap! Why?” He was chuckling.
“It seems so strange that it should need that to bring them together. I should think—”
“Now, watch out for that thinkin’ business. People have been known to get headaches that-a-way,” the rancher chuckled again. “A good scrap once in a while is better than a spring tonic. Say, Mother—” his voice became serious—“Teddy and Roy haven’t said much, but I’ve got a hunch they’re hankerin’ for something—or rather, to take a little trip.”
“A trip? Where?”
“Well—” he turned toward her—“if you ask me, I’d say they were achin’ to take a crack at Nugget Camp.”
“The place where that man—Pop’s cousin—was shot? Bardwell, we can’t let them go there!”
“Now, sweetness, you got that wrong!” Mr. Manley protested. “Decker didn’t get shot at the camp. He was ridin’ away from it when he was held up. There’s no real danger. An’ the work here is pretty well under way. It would certainly be a grand experience for the boys.”
Mrs. Manley nodded and smiled.
“If you say so, Bardwell—and they aren’t really children any more, are they?”
“Children!” The long mustache trembled and a twinkle came into the blue eyes. “Children! Well, Mother, if you think they are—but we’ll let that go. Then you don’t mind if I tell them?”