“Sartain shore am glad tuh see yuh!” was the cowboy’s welcome, smiling broadly upon the girls. But it was plain to Dorothy that his bold eyes lingered longer upon Tavia’s brilliant face.
Tavia was at her best—sprightly, talkative, laughing—behaving indeed in a most bewildering fashion. A much more sophisticated fellow than Lance Petterby might have had his head turned over Tavia Travers on that particular day.
Dorothy knew very well that it was only Tavia’s fun, but the cowboy did not know. Even old Mrs. Petterby said:
“I declare for’t! I never did see sech a gal for runnin’ on as you do. Can’t tell when ye air funnin’ an’ when ye air in earnest.”
Lance had something to say to Dorothy in private.
“Yuh axed me about Philo Marsh last time I seen yuh, Miss Dale. Has yuh aunt signed up for them water-rights yet?”
“No. But she is about to.”
“Tell her to wait a bit longer. I got a line on something queer.”
“Oh, Mr. Lance! What is it? About Philo Marsh?”
“Yes, Ma’am. You say he’s workin’ for the Desert City folks?”