It was late when at last they got to bed and the Rushton boys had never slept more soundly than they did that night.
And when the boys went home a little later they had the warmest kind of greeting. Nothing was too good for them. Teddy saw his advantage, and the youth struck while the iron was hot.
“You are going to let us go with Bill Garwood to his ranch, aren’t you, Mother?” he asked coaxingly.
“I guess I’ll have to,” smiled his mother, while Mr. Rushton nodded assent.
“Sure!” broke in Uncle Aaron, “and what’s more I’ll buy the railroad tickets.”
And at this the boys almost fainted.
“Say,” asked Teddy, when they were alone, “won’t we have a bully time with Bill on the ranch?”
“We most certainly will,” agreed Fred with emphasis.
And what glorious times they had in that wild western country, with its wide sweep of plain and forest, its danger and its mystery, its bucking bronchos and reckless cowboys will be told in our next volume, to be entitled: “The Rushton Boys in the Saddle; or, The Ghost of the Plains.”
“And the cowboys,” exulted Teddy. “Whoopee!”