Dugonne was a rambling, raw, uninviting place. The junction of the two railroads made its existence here possible, for there were neither cattle interests, farms, or mines very near.
Aunt Winnie remained in her room, but Ned and Nat took the girls down to the breakfast table and proved that the Commonwealth Hotel of Dugonne could cater to the taste of touring Easterners.
They saw a small bunch of steers being driven through a back street of the town and learned that they were from the Double Chain Outfit.
“That is a big concern, they tell me,” said Ned White, who was much interested in cattle—or seemed to be since his mother had become part owner of a range and ranch. “Colonel Hardin sold most of his herd before he died.”
“But the Double Chain isn’t very near this town?” asked Tavia. “That Mr. Lance told me it was a day’s ride—and you can ride a long way in a day on these cow ponies—can’t you, Doro?”
“Those dear little things!” cried Dorothy. “They just fly.”
“And you’re not going to have a pony, after all,” said Ned, solemnly. “Aren’t you sorry you picked that tramp up, Dot?”
“He’s not a tramp, Ned White!” exclaimed Dorothy. “Don’t call him that, please. And where is Mr. Dempsey?”
“He went with us to hire the stage-coach,” said Nat. “And believe me, he has his wits about him. He has lived out this way ever since the war, he says, and he knows all about everything,” added the younger boy, with some admiration.
“We left him at the corral where we engaged the wagon and team and driver,” Ned said. “He is going with us—never you fear, my dear coz.”