“The fiend!” ejaculated the ranchman. “Did he shoot at you?” he asked, anxiously.
“No. I didn’t give him the chance. When I found it wasn’t any of you, I ducked down, slamming the door and then I put the lights out.”
“But what became of the lights in the bunkhouse?” inquired Sandy.
“I put them out, too,” returned Mrs. Bowser. “You see, after I got over the first surprise and scare, my nerve came back. I grabbed one of Sam’s guns, crept across the yard, extinguished the lamps and then took up my stand in the doorway, determined to take a shot at any one else who came along.”
“Thank goodness, you had the foresight to speak before shooting,” exclaimed her husband. “It was the last thing I ever thought of your being on guard.”
“Oh, I may be a ‘’fraid cat,’ but I’m no fool,” asserted the woman.
“That’s what you’re not, Sarah.”
“And there ain’t many other women with the nerve to stand watch in the dark after they’ve been threatened,” chimed in Sandy, in evident admiration of the bravery displayed by the wife of the ranch owner.
During the conversation, the men had dismounted and Pinky had relighted the lamps in the bunkhouse, which they all entered, leaving their ponies standing, ready saddled in case of emergency, by the door.
In the light of the lamps, Mrs. Bowser was able to notice for the first time that her husband was hatless, while the others all had their sombreros on.