Seizing a trumpet made of a cow’s horn the Chinaman rushed to the top of the house and blew half a dozen blasts that resounded over the prairie like the call of the wild huntsman, and in fifteen minutes from every direction horses and ponies bearing cowboy riders were dashing across the plains toward the Lodge. But far more amazing to Billie was the sight of her own red Comet hastening eagerly toward her, and at the wheel sat Mary, clever little pupil that she was, and in the back seat were Elinor and Nancy crying and calling and waving their handkerchiefs all at once.
Miss Campbell had been completely prostrated. She was in bed with a wet towel around her head and her eyes were red with weeping. Billie also was put to bed and fed by her devoted friends with hot soup and dry toast. She was more exhausted than she cared to admit, and it was Hot Air Sue, with her talent for inexhaustible conversation, who made explanations to the household of Steptoe Lodge.
The next morning two men arrived at the Lodge. They bore a warrant for the arrest of one, Buckthorne Hawkes, automobile thief. But Buckthorne Hawkes was not to be found. However, they confiscated the gray racing car, and the girls knew that Peter Van Vechten was once more in possession of his property.
CHAPTER XIV.—ON THE ROAD AGAIN.
The Comet had now a guide. No more excursions into the wilderness of the unknown for him. Timidly and cautiously he crept along as close to the tracks of the Union Pacific Railroad as the highway permitted, for they were about to go through the wild rugged country where rise the snow-capped ranges of the Rocky Mountains.
With a sigh of relief they said good-by to Steptoe Lodge.
“It was interesting, but uncomfortable,” Miss Campbell had said. For a whole day Billie’s experience had quite shaken Miss Campbell’s enthusiasm in the journey. It was not a permanent distaste, however. Having remained quietly in West Haven for a quarter of a century, the little woman was now possessed with a thirst for travel. She had developed into a high-toned Gypsy with a disposition to perpetual wandering.
The partings at Steptoe Lodge had some of them been quite moving; but not Rosina’s, who had bade them a chilly farewell. Her nature was a stormy one, a strange mixture of hot and cold, anger and humility, courage and fear.
“I don’t know whom she’s angriest with,” Billie had observed, “our ex-teacher, Maria, for putting her brother up to such lawless tricks or us because we were the victims.”
“I hope they catch him,” said Miss Campbell firmly. “I do, indeed, and shut him up in prison for a long, long time. Such dangerous characters ought not to be allowed to run at large.”