However, had she known that the fellow carried her note to Philo Marsh instead of to Mr. Jermyn—being in Marsh’s pay—the lady from the East would not have been so tranquil in her mind. Having been unsuccessful in wheedling Hank Ledger into aiding him, Marsh had hired this Mexican to play the spy at the Hardin ranch.
Tavia and the boys were not informed of the new mystery regarding the water-rights affair. Dorothy had promised Aunt Winnie not to speak of it at present.
“After working as hard as we do all day,” quoth Ned at the supper table that night, “a fellow needs a little recreation in the evening. You girls aren’t at all entertaining. Why! you haven’t had even a ‘sing’ since we came out here to the ranch.”
“What will we do for music?” asked Dorothy. “There isn’t even a banjo in the house.”
“There are mandolins, or guitars, or something, down to the bunkhouse,” Nat broke in. “I heard somebody plunking one to-day. You know, these Mexicans are great on music—of a kind.”
“I’ll ask Flores,” promised Dorothy, briskly. “Just as soon as supper is over.”
“And we’ll all sing,” announced Ned, gravely.
Tavia immediately relinquished her knife and fork. “I object,” she declared. “Perhaps I should say that I rise to a point of order.”
“What about, Miss?” demanded Ned.
“Are you going to attempt to sing?” asked Tavia, point blank.