Chapter 2. A Handsome Cowboy to the Rescue

Beatrice took immediate possession of the front seat, that she might comfort her heartbroken young nephew.

"Never mind, honey. They'll bring the horses back in a minute, and we'll make them run every step. And when you get to Uncle Dick's ranch you'll see the nicest things--bossy calves, and chickens, and, maybe, some little pigs with curly tails."

All this, though alluring, failed of its purpose; the small boy continued to weep, and his weeping was ear-splitting.

"Be still, Dorman, or you'll certainly scare all the coyotes to death."

"Where are dey?"

"Oh, all around. You keep watch, hon, and maybe you'll see one put the tip of his nose over a hill."

"What hill?" Dorman skipped a sob, and scoured his eyes industriously with both fists.

"M-m--that hill. That little one over there. Watch close, or you'll miss him."

The dove of peace hovered over them, and seemed actually about to alight. Beatrice leaned back with a relieved breath.

"It is good of you, my dear, to take so much trouble," sighed his Aunt Mary. "How I am to manage without Parks I'm sure I cannot tell."

"You are tired, and you miss your tea." soothed Beatrice, optimistic as to tone. "When we all have a good rest we will be all right. Dorman will find plenty to amuse him. We are none of us exactly comfortable now."

"Comfortable!" sniffed her mother. "I am half dead. Richard wrote such glowing letters home that I was misled. If I had dreamed of the true conditions, Miss Hayes, I should never have sanctioned this wild idea of Beatrice's to come out and spend the summer with Richard."

"It's coming, Be'trice! There it is! Will it bite, auntie? Say, will it bite?"

Beatrice looked. A horseman came over the hill and was galloping down the long slope toward them. His elbows were lifted contrary to the mandates of the riding-school, his long legs were encased in something brown and fringed down the sides. His gray hat was tilted rakishly up at the back and down in front, and a handkerchief was knotted loosely around his throat. Even at that distance he struck her as different from any one she had ever seen.

"It's a highwayman!" whispered Mrs. Lansell "Hide your purse, my dear!"

"I--I--where?" Miss Hayes was all a-flutter with fear.

"Drop it down beside the wheel, into the water. Quick! I shall drop my watch."

"He--he is coming on this side! He can see!" Her whisper was full of entreaty and despair.

"Give them here. He can't see on both sides of the buggy at once." Mrs. Lansell, being an American--a Yankee at that--was a woman of resource.

"Beatrice, hand me your watch quick!"