“Uncle, I hope I'll never have to be their boss,” replied Helen.
“Wal, you're goin' to be, right off,” declared Al. “They ain't a bad lot, after all. An' I got a likely new man.”
With that he turned to Bo, and, after studying her pretty face, he asked, in apparently severe tone, “Did you send a cowboy named Carmichael to ask me for a job?”
Bo looked quite startled.
“Carmichael! Why, Uncle, I never heard that name before,” replied Bo, bewilderedly.
“A-huh! Reckoned the young rascal was lyin',” said Auchincloss. “But I liked the fellar's looks an' so let him stay.”
Then the rancher turned to the group of lounging riders.
“Las Vegas, come here,” he ordered, in a loud voice.
Helen thrilled at sight of a tall, superbly built cowboy reluctantly detaching himself from the group. He had a red-bronze face, young like a boy's. Helen recognized it, and the flowing red scarf, and the swinging gun, and the slow, spur-clinking gait. No other than Bo's Las Vegas cowboy admirer!
Then Helen flashed a look at Bo, which look gave her a delicious, almost irresistible desire to laugh. That young lady also recognized the reluctant individual approaching with flushed and downcast face. Helen recorded her first experience of Bo's utter discomfiture. Bo turned white then red as a rose.