"Wal-l, I dunno. One fellow tried hitchin' one of 'em to a tree with a lariat rope but, laws sakes, it didn't do no good. Busted the rope like it was a burnt thread an' he give it up."
During the last half hour they had been climbing a long hill and now, as they reached its top, a scene of surpassing beauty stretched out before them. A broad expanse entirely hemmed in by lofty hills reached for miles, beginning, as it seemed, almost at their feet.
"Thar's the Lazy S," Slim announced, pointing toward a set of buildings located near the center of the basin.
"It's sure pretty," Jack declared "How big is the ranch?"
"'Bout ten thousand acres more or less ter the ranch itself, but the cattle range a lot farther'n that."
"Some farm," Bob muttered.
The bronchos had been inclined to lag coming up the long hill but now, as though they realized that home was near and supper waiting for them, seemed imbued with new life and Slim had his hands full to hold them as they swept down the mountain and around sharp curves at a pace which, more than once, made the boys catch their breath. Bob especially, who at the time was riding on the trunk, was obliged to cling on with both hands to the back of the seat. Several times he was on the point of asking if they were not going faster than was safe, but the thought that the cowboy would think that he was frightened, restrained him and he gritted his teeth and hung on. But he breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the bottom and swung out onto the plain.
It was about an hour later when they drove into the yard of the ranch house, a long one-story building with a broad porch reaching across the entire front. A tall gaunt man, his lean face tanned to the color of brown leather, rose from the low chair, as they drove up.
"Just in time for supper," he greeted them as he stepped from the porch and reached out a hand to each of them.
"This is Mr. Stebbins?" Bob asked as he grasped the hand.