“Bess, you can go and tell the man where to tie his hoss.”
The girl led the way to the rear of the building, where about a hundred feet back was a sapling with a long rope attached to it.
“Hitch your hoss on to that,” said she. “And there’s another for the young chap.”
Gerald smiled at this designation, and availed himself of the information.
“You can set down anywhere, and when supper’s ready I’ll shout.”
“Thank you, Miss Peters,” said the tourist with an amused smile.
But Bess seemed still more amused at being called Miss Peters.
“Oh, I shall bust with laughing, I shall!” she giggled. “Miss Peters! Oh, ain’t you funny, though?”
“Is there any place to wash?” asked Gerald, looking at his dust-soiled hands.