"Company!" came from her lips in exclamatory whisper.
At first glance Childress recognized one of the beasts. "The widow from Rafter A," he remarked and received a sharp, enquiring look for his display of knowledge.
"She never has frightened me," declared Flame. "Come on."
As a matter of fact, they already had been seen and retreat would have been impossible, even if the girl had desired to avoid a meeting with her stunning neighbor and to hide the presence of that other neighbor who was under suspicion.
Upon the porch, one on either side of the long, lean, dark-visaged ranchman, sat Ethel Andress and her ranch manager, Fitzrapp. The latter rose instantly on seeing the daughter of the house and waited to be introduced. He quite ignored Childress. Sam Gallegher growled and did not leave his easy chair.
"This is Mrs. Andress of the Rafter and her manager, Fitzrapp," he said to Flame. "We've been discussing this damnable rustling situation."
"You don't need to introduce us," said the widow in a detached sort of way. "We've met before."
"Yes, we've met—the Lady Fair and the Gallegher Brat," returned Flame pleasantly enough. "I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Fitzrapp. Not often we have two distinguished callers at one and the same time. To-day we have three. Permit me to introduce Mr. Childress, of the Open A—Fire Weed's newest and smallest ranch."
Fitzrapp was making his best bow to the young woman of the ranch; the widow's expression clearly was one of amusement. So far as social experience was concerned, she was somewhat in command of the situation.
"No need of introducing me to Mr. Childress," she trilled. "He saved my life the very first time he set eyes on me and in spite of all my protests."