“Mostly from our western experiences. Of course we learned a few things in the war.”
“The war? Was you thar?” laughed Sierra.
“Yes. I drove an ambulance. The other young women were in the service as hospital workers, and the like. My husband, Tom Gray, was a Captain of Engineers, and Lieutenant Wingate was a flier—a fighting pilot,” Grace informed them.
“Gee whiz! Ain’t thet the limit?” wondered Idaho.
“The next question is, what are we going to do for horses? Do any of you boys know where we can buy or rent some?”
“Mebby the Old Man might sell ye what ye need,” suggested Sallie, who was in charge of the corral for Bindloss. “I’ll arsk him.”
Grace thanked him, but said Tom Gray would take the matter up with the rancher. Later in the morning Tom informed her that he had already done so, and that arrangements had been made to rent such ponies as they needed. Bindloss, he said, did not want to take money from them, but that the Overlander had insisted on his doing so. The arrangement, Tom said, was that they were to pay a rental of two dollars a week for each pony, and in the event of any of the animals being lost or injured, the Overland Riders were to settle for the ponies at the rate of twenty-five dollars a head.
This was satisfactory to all hands, and on the following day they were to select their mounts.
That noon they took their luncheon with the rancher and his men in the bunk-house, by special invitation. After dinner Nora sang a song, Emma Dean recited a pathetic little selection to which she gave the title of “The Cowboy’s Love,” but which, instead of being about a cowboy, was the story of a child lost on the desert, and adopted by a mother wolf that had lost its own offspring.
The Overlanders were of the opinion that Emma made up the story, but at any rate it made a hit and moved some of the cowpunchers to tears, for cowpunchers, like sailors, are sentimental under their rough exteriors. Emma’s eyes were twinkling mischievously when she finished and observed the effect of her story.