They saw nothing of the little Mexican girl who had formerly helped the foreman’s wife around the ranch house. In her stead was a rather stolid country girl who responded to the name of Merry.
“I wonder where Flores is,” said Tavia, when they were in their room for a quick wash and a change into their riding clothes which they had very thoughtfully packed in their grips. “It doesn’t seem like the same old ranch with her missing.”
“We must ask Mrs. Ledger about her when we go down,” said Dorothy absently, and Tavia, noting her tone, turned thoughtful eyes in her direction.
“Worrying about Joe, Doro?”
“Do I ever do anything else lately?” retorted Dorothy, with a sigh. “But I am dreadfully worried about Garry too, Tavia. What Lance told us about this gang that is out to ‘get him’ is anything but comforting.”
“Suppose you will be stepping over to Garry’s ranch as soon as we get a bite to eat,” suggested Tavia, and Dorothy nodded.
“If we can be said to step on horseback,” she added.
“Well, the horse steps, doesn’t it?” retorted Tavia, but Dorothy was again so absorbed in her unhappy thoughts that she did not hear this weak attempt at humor.
“Tavia,” she cried, at last facing her chum, “why do you suppose Garry didn’t come to meet the train to-day? I don’t know whether to be dreadfully angry at him or terribly frightened for him.”
“I don’t believe I would be either until we find out more about him than we know at present, Doro,” said Tavia gravely. “One thing is certain, we know Garry well enough to be sure he had a good reason for what he did.”