Chapter 5. The Search for Dorman

"Oh, I say," began Sir Redmond, an hour after, when he happened to stand close to Beatrice for a few minutes, "where is Dorman? I fancied you brought him along."

"We didn't," Beatrice told him. "He only rode as far as the gate, where Dick left him, and started him back to the house."

"Mary told me he came along. She and your mother were congratulating each other upon a quiet half-day, with you and Dorman off the place together. I'll wager their felicitations fell rather flat."

Beatrice laughed. "Very likely. I know they were mourning because their lace-making had been neglected lately. What with that trip to Lost Canyon to-morrow, and to the mountains Friday, I'm afraid the lace will continue to suffer. What do you think of a round-up, Sir Redmond?"

"It's deuced nasty," said he. "Such a lot of dust and noise. I fancy the workmen don't find it pleasant."

"Yes, they do; they like it," she declared. "Dick says a cowboy is never satisfied off the range. And you mustn't call them workmen, Sir Redmond. They'd resent it, if they knew. They're cowboys, and proud of it. They seem rather a pleasant lot of fellows, on the whole. I have been talking to one or two."

"Well, we're all through here," Dick announced, riding up. "I'm going to ride around by Keith's place, to see a horse I'm thinking of buying. Want to go along, Trix? Or are you tired?"

"I'm never tired," averred his sister, readjusting a hat-pin and gathering up her reins. "I always want to go everywhere that you'll take me, Dick. Consider that point settled for the summer. Are you coming, Sir Redmond?"

"I think not, thank you," he said, not quite risen above his rebuff of the morning. "I told Mary I would be back for lunch."

"I was wiser; I refused even to venture an opinion as to when I should be back. Well, 'so-long'!"

"You're learning the lingo pretty fast, Trix," Dick chuckled, when they were well away from Sir Redmond. "Milord almost fell out of the saddle when you fired that at him. Where did you pick it up?"

"I've heard you say it a dozen times since I came. And I don't care if he is shocked--I wanted him to be. He needn't be such a perfect bear; and I know mama and Miss Hayes don't expect him to lunch, without us. He just did it to be spiteful."

"Jerusalem, Trix! A little while ago you said he was a dear! You shouldn't snub him, if you want him to be nice to you."

"I don't want him to be nice," flared Beatrice. "I don't care how he acts. Only, I must say, ill humor doesn't become him. Not that it matters, however."

"Well, I guess we can get along without him, if he won't honor us with his company. Here