“I shall expect you boys to exercise the greatest care,” said Mr. Follett.
“Oh, don’t worry about us,” spoke up Bob. “We’ll be careful.”
“An’, besides, they’ll have Doc Clifton along,” squeaked Willie. “Do I want to go to Lone Pine? Oh, I may as well.”
“You can’t ride a broncho, William,” snorted Tommy.
“And I don’t want to,” snapped Willie.
“Anyway, I’ll bet we have some dandy fun,” declared Cranny, in enthusiastic tones.
CHAPTER VIII
AT LONE PINE
Lone Pine Ranch was situated not so many miles from Circle T, on the other side of a river whose waters cut an erratic course through the prairie. A straight line drawn between the houses would have passed across a wide stretch of yellow alkali plain, dotted with great sandstone buttes and patched with clumps of huge spiked cacti.
In another direction, however, the prairie was covered with a growth of buffalo grass and occasional clumps of trees. Over this rich feeding ground Mr. Follett’s immense herds of longhorns roamed for miles and miles, even beyond Lone Pine Ranch. Standing isolated on the broad plain, the appearance of the solid ranch-house was strongly suggestive of the early pioneer days and Indian warfare. Close by stood a long, low building formerly used as a stable, and encircling both was a high stockade.
About the middle of the morning a cavalcade of youthful horsemen cantered briskly up before the entrance.