The distance to the ranch being only about a mile the Overlanders decided that they would walk, and the rancher, assuring them that their stock and equipment would not be disturbed, Jim-Sam welcomed the opportunity to accompany them. Bindloss led his mustang and walked with them, and between Emma Dean’s quaint humor and Stacy Brown’s broader fun-making, Bindloss was kept in a roar most of the way home.
He explained that he had no family, and that he seldom saw people of the outside world except when he went to town, which was only at rare intervals. He said that his men were preparing for a round-up and that within a few days a bunch of his cowboys would start with a drove of cattle for the north. He led his new friends to the dance-house, which was the cowboys’ bunk-house, and there he introduced them to that rollicking crowd.
The fiddler stopped playing the moment the party appeared in the bunk-house.
Sierra Joe, Squint Nevada, Sallie, and Two-gun Peters, were among the names that rolled readily from the tongue of the rancher as he introduced his men to the Overland Riders.
“And if they don’t talk you to death I reckon they’ll dance you to death,” warned the rancher, grinning at his men. “Scrape, you lazy lout!” he roared to the fiddler.
The cowboys were shy, and stood about awkwardly, avoiding the eyes of the girls who were smiling invitingly.
“See here, boys, aren’t you going to ask us to dance?” cried Emma. “No? Then I am going to ask you. Two-gun Peters, I like your name. It is a perfectly adorable name, and I want to dance with you. If you are half as handy with your feet as your name indicates that you are with your revolver, we’ll have a heavenly dance. Shake your feet, Peter!”
There was laughter from the Overlanders, a bellowing laugh from Joe Bindloss and sheepish grins from Two-gun Peters and his fellows, as Emma grabbed him and began waltzing about with him. Then the other girls of the party selected their partners, and in a few moments the cowboys were dancing, milling about as if they were herding cattle at a round-up. Stamping feet, shrill cries from the fiddler and an occasional howl from Stacy Brown, who was doing an Indian dance by himself, made the old bunk-house ring, and raised the dust until the room was bathed in a yellow haze.
Jim and Sam, grinning and pulling their whiskers, were watching the fun and trying to talk to Bindloss, but the old rancher was having altogether too good a time to say much to them.
“I wish Judy was over here. She’d see somethin’ worth while,” he finally confided to Tom Gray.