“Now, Neddie,” advised Tavia, “don’t put on airs.”
“We’re real sorry, boys,” admitted Dorothy. “But that old train went off and left us without saying one word!”
“I should think it did,” answered Ned. “And what business had you off of it?”
“It wasn’t we that went off,” declared Tavia. “It was the train that went off.”
“Where have you been all this time?” asked Nat. “How did you get here by an entirely different road? And who helped you?”
“Oh, there! now you’ve said something,” cried Tavia. “Just the very nicest young man. A cattle puncher by trade, and we rode fifty miles with him, and saw a Mrs. Little of gigantic size, and helped a young woman and her lover elope, and witnessed the ceremony while her father battered at the door and threatened to blow all our heads off—and were chased by the angry father thinking we were the elopers, and——”
“Stop her! stop her!” shouted Nat. “I know you girls can collect adventures as a magnet does steel filings, but you are going too far now. An elopement! and an angry father with a gun——”
“And our Grand Army man!” cried Dorothy, suddenly. “Where is he? We must do something to help him.”
“That’s so, Doro,” agreed Tavia. “We must find him.”
“Now they’re off again!” groaned Nat, looking helplessly at his brother.