“Looks like we are running into a rain storm,” he remarked, adding, idly: “Good thing for wheat, anyway.”
Dorothy knew that there was no chance of learning anything further concerning Garry and, as they were rapidly reaching Dugonne, the nearest station to the Hardin ranch, she felt that her opportunity was almost at an end.
At any rate, she had found out one thing.
“I wonder,” she thought wearily as Blake left her and sauntered in the direction of the smoking car, “if there can be any truth in what he hinted. But of course there can’t be. Garry ought to know whether he owns his ranch or not. Oh, how I hate that Stanley Blake!”
CHAPTER XIX
AN OLD FRIEND
Later Dorothy related the details of this conversation to Tavia, and even that sanguine one could find little of use in it.
“It seems to leave us just about where we were before,” she commented. “Never mind, honey, we shall soon be in Desert City, and, once on the ground, I reckon we’ll find ourselves in possession of more unpleasant facts than we need or want.”
“How comforting you are,” complained Dorothy, as she turned restlessly in the velvet-covered seat. “I am horribly nervous, Tavia. Suppose Joe hasn’t reached Desert City! Suppose he took the wrong train or something! So many things may happen to a boy traveling all alone. Remember, he didn’t even have money to buy himself food!”
“Now you stop worrying, Doro Doodlekins.” Tavia’s arms had circled her chum in a comforting embrace. “If that telegram has reached Garry, as of course it has, I’ll guarantee he has Joe as safe as a bug in a rug by this time.”
A little sound broke from Dorothy that was more sob than laugh, but she tried to turn it into a laugh as she answered Tavia’s reassurance with a wistful: