“Hey, take it easy!” Teddy interrupted. “We haven’t got old Needleback; so what’s the use of supposing? You’re lucky to have us back at all, Miss Maybe. Do you realize that?”
“Bugs,” Belle stated definitely, with that callousness so attractive in sisters of twelve. “I know you and Roy. It ’ud take more than a landslide to put you under. Like that time you went after the rustlers. If I could have come with you, I’ll bet none of them would have gotten away!”
“Is that so!” Roy interrupted, getting up from the steps of the front porch, where he had been sitting, and walking toward Belle. “Is that so! How would you work? What would you do? Shoot ’em all? Would you? Would you? Would—”
“Roy Manley, don’t you touch my hair! I just combed it! Roy! If you don’t stop—”
With a bound, Roy cleared the railing, while Belle stood in mock fury, shaking her fist.
“Come on, Teddy,” the departed brother called back. “Let’s go see Nick down at the bunk-house. We can’t be bothering with children.”
With a laugh, Teddy arose and followed his brother.
“We’ll see you later,” he whispered as he passed Belle. “Think up a good one, and I’ll help you.”
Approaching the bunk-house, the two boys saw that Nick, Pop Burns, and Gus Tripp were leaning against the side talking—“settling their supper.” In the dusk of the evening, they resembled a picture, so quietly did they stand. The cowboy will seldom move unless it is necessary, but at those times he makes up for his former quiescence.
“Greetings, boys,” Teddy called softly.