“I think you are right, James. Your mule would frighten the beasts of the jungles,” said Emma.
“Missie, you’re wrong. Jim’s mule is the finest chunk o’ mule flesh that you ever seen,” declared Sam.
“You said it, old Whiskers. That critter of yours can’t hold a firebrand to him,” agreed Jim.
“He can’t, eh? Wal, I’ll show ye whether he can or not. Thar ain’t a mule on four feet that can come up to mine,” averred Sam heatedly.
“Will you kindly stop your wrangling and do something?” begged Tom Gray. “Hippy, are the rifles safe?”
“Yes. They didn’t find them, thank goodness.”
Grace and her companions, who had been making a hasty inventory of their belongings, announced that not a thing was missing.
“I reckon that our boys got here too soon and chased the critters away,” boomed the rancher. “What do you folks think you’re going to do now?”
“That is the question before the house,” observed Stacy.
“Where would the horse thieves be likely to take the stock?” asked Grace.