“You can fix that just to suit you, ma’am,” answered Lance obligingly. “I know how you feel, but I can tell you that if your brother Joe is with Garry Knapp his troubles and your’n are pretty nigh over.”
“Yes, if he only is with Garry,” Dorothy agreed wistfully.
They started down the dusty road away from the Knapp ranch and Desert City beyond, heading in the general direction of Dugonne.
They had only gone a short way, however, when Lance turned away from the road and led them down a trail that wound through the deepest part of the woodland.
“Talk about the primeval forest!” cried Tavia, in glee. “If this isn’t it I am a dumbbell. Oh, forgive me, Doro darling. I really didn’t mean to say that dreadful word. I am about to join the nation-wide movement for a purer, better English—”
“I feel sorry for the movement then,” said Dorothy wickedly, and Tavia went through the motions of turning up the collar of her riding coat.
“That was unnecessarily cruel,” complained Tavia. “Before Lance, here, too! Never mind, I am quite sure he enjoys my slang; don’t you, Lance?”
“You bet I do, Miss Tavia,” agreed Lance, his grin broader than ever. “I never see you but what I add a few words to my vocabulary. Not that it needs it none,” he added, with a chuckle.
They rode for a considerable distance through the woods, the ponies doing excellent work over the rough trail, and presently came to a small clearing in the center of which sat a tiny cabin that had “home” written in every line and angle of it.
Lance gave a peculiar whistle that brought both his “women folks” running to the door.