“Them critters is the pick o’ Circle T Ranch, young un,” responded Jed, impressively. “Thar ain’t one but what’s a reg’lar tornado an’ cyclone mixed together when he gits hisself a-goin’ good. Don’t walk too clos’t; their heels is liable to fly. I declare I can’t git over seein’ this bunch ag’in.”
“When the Ramblers have been around it generally takes an awful long time for some one to recover,” said Willie. “I’ve been through it myself. Oh, sugar! Is this town rented out to a moving picture concern?”
“I ain’t never seen one o’ them picters,” admitted Jed; “but if yer refer to cow-punchers an’ sheep-men, thar’s a few still left; an’ most of ’em are good, squar’ fellers.”
The boys were quick to notice that the appearance of the people of Border City had also been considerably affected by the changed conditions. The typical plainsman could still be seen lounging around the Black Bear Hotel and general store; but men in less picturesque garb, and with an unmistakable air of the East, or middle West predominated.
Substantial buildings of brick and frame had sprung up on all sides, making the original ramshackle houses of Border City appear, by contrast, smaller and more forlorn-looking than ever.
The sun, just overhead, blazed down on the winding street; a yellow glare, full of simmering heat waves, enveloped the surroundings; and every foot or horse’s hoof that struck the ground raised its little cloud of choking dust.
“Say, fellows, I see they call this Carroll Avenue now,” sang out Bob, pointing to a sign-post opposite.
“Major Carroll’s a fine chap,” pronounced Jed. “Thar’s a-goin’ ter be some great doin’s hyar purty soon, lads; an’ him an’ them aeroplane fellers are the ones we kin thank fur it. An’ say, Bob, mebbe them Lone Piners weren’t glad to know your bunch was coming!”
“I remember the time when they weren’t so glad to see us,” chirped Cranny, with a reminiscent grin.
“An’ that’s whar ye’re just right,” laughed Jed. “But things is different now. What’s that, young un?”