“I guess it’s all right, mother,” said big Ned, carelessly. “And the fellow is getting to be a nuisance hanging about here.”
Dorothy was tempted to tell her aunt of the conversation she had overheard between Marsh and the foreman, Hank Ledger, despite the fact that the conference seemed to have led to nothing. The foreman was a good sort, and Dorothy liked Mrs. Ledger, so the girl did not wish to make her aunt suspicious of Hank.
She understood that this preliminary agreement between her aunt and those who desired water from Lost River, was not a binding document. Aunt Winnie said the lawyers in Dugonne would look after the estate’s interest before the matter was concluded, and make everything legal and shipshape.
Naturally, even Dorothy—with all her suspicion of Philo Marsh—did not pay much attention to the business of the water-rights, only when the subject was brought up in family conclave. The young folk were having too good a time to think of much but their own pleasure—the boys in their way, and the girls in theirs.
Old Mrs. Petterby had caught Ophelia and now was anxious to go back to the Nicholson place, where she was to meet Lance again. She was to drive over in a buckboard, one of the Mexican hands being employed as driver, and of course there were two empty seats.
“Let’s go with her—you and I, Doro,” proposed Tavia, eagerly.
Dorothy suspected that her chum was just roguish enough to want to plague Lance Petterby, and she tried to veto the proposal.
“All right for you, then!” said Tavia, coolly. “If you won’t go with me, I’ll go anyway.”
That settled it. Dorothy did not want Tavia to go without her. So they drove away in the buckboard with the old lady from Rand’s Falls, Massachusetts.
It was a jolly ride, for Mrs. Petterby was good fun and both the girls were fond of her. When they arrived at the squatter’s double cabin, sure enough, there was Lance and his pony, Gaby.