Another disappointing incident was that Mr. Burt, the man Sanderson expected to meet in Springer, failed to appear there, but a wire was handed the Ranger instead.
“Well! he says that he’s waiting for me at the Castañeda Hotel in Las Vegas, where he has been detained because of business,” explained the Ranger to the men in the scout party. “But I’m inclined to think that Burt had little desire to stop over at a small place with so little to interest a visitor. Las Vegas will amuse him to his heart’s content.”
“What will you do now?” asked Mr. Vernon.
“Go on with you to-morrow, just as we had planned. I came here as directed, and Burt is not here. Now he must wait for me.”
The girls exchanged approving looks with each other, because they admired a man who had enough respect for himself to demand that others respect him also, by deeds as well as by words.
“I have a plan to propose which you may think a wise one, but you may think I am too forward for suggesting it,” said the Ranger at supper that night.
“Out with it, Sandy!” exclaimed Mr. Gilroy. “We’ll not consider you forward in anything, but being guilty of making all the scouts fall in love with you. I know that is so, because not one of them has deigned to send me a smile—they are all saved for you, you rascal.”
The scouts laughed merrily, but Sanderson, in confusion, blushed like a girl accused of her first love-affair. To cover his embarrassment, the young man said: “If you send Tally with the burros by freight in the morning, we can ride to Las Vegas in half the time. Then we can meet him there and plan later.”
“That’s a fine idea, Sandy! How far is it from Springer?” returned Mr. Vernon.
“It’s a jaunt of about seventy miles, but we can stop at Wagon Mound, which is almost half-way to Las Vegas, you know.”