Satisfied with this arrangement, Pinky hurried off to carry out his part of it, rejoining his companion in due course.
Quickly mounting, but not without many misgivings, the two cowboys cantered round to the veranda of the ranchhouse where they knew the women were sitting.
Even before they had come in sight, Mrs. Bowser heard the hoofbeats and went to learn their cause.
“What are you two boys going to do?” she demanded.
“Join Sam and the rest,” returned Sandy.
“Oh, no, you’re not; not while Amy and I are here all alone!” exclaimed the woman, resolutely.
And with a lightning movement, she turned to the side of the veranda, picked up a rifle and leveled it at the rebellious cowpunchers ere they could realize exactly what was happening.
“Now do you think you’ll go?” demanded Mrs. Bowser, grimly. “If you don’t turn round and ride back to the corral, dismount and promise not to try any such tricks again, I’ll—I’ll shoot you!”
Not relishing being in front of the death-dealing weapon pointed at him, especially when it was in the hands of a nervous woman—for he realized it might be discharged accidentally any moment—the foreman pretended to yield.
“All right! You seem to be the doctor,” he replied, wheeling his horse, and at the same time winking at Pinky to let him know he had evolved another scheme to carry out his purpose.