knows some people here in Denver and they met her at the station and carried her off to dine with them. I wish she’d get belated and left behind. She was a regular kill-joy all the way out.”
“Poor, meek, timid woman! She used to have so little snap that Herbert nicknamed her ‘The Worm.’ It was horrid – ”
“Well, she’s ‘turned,’ then. Of course, we were pretty full of fun and scared her with some of our pranks. But – Ah! there she is now! You can’t lose that woman! Mrs. Montaigne told her that ‘the lives of her precious children were entrusted to her hands,’ and the governess feels her responsibility to the full, I tell you. Even Helena – ”
“Dinner for the newcomers!” called Mr. Ford, interrupting, as a fresh meal was placed upon the table and they were invited to their seats. The zeal with which they accepted and the fine appetites they displayed sent a satisfied smile to their host’s lips, and he nodded merrily to his wife:
“No invalids among them! Glad of that! But youngsters, eat first, chatter afterwards! The wagons will be at the door very soon and I want to get in a good thirty miles before bedtime!”
They tried to check their eager talk but they were all too excited for quiet, and presently rose from the table, ready for the ride, while Mr. Ford said:
“Now, Erminie, wife, you do the pairing off of the youngsters, and arrange how we shall divide. First, count noses! Eight youngsters, three oldsters, two ‘boys’ – thirteen passengers in all! Miss Milliken, did you ever ‘cross the plains’ before?”
The prim little lady, who had been standing beside Mrs. Ford, appeared not to hear the gentleman’s question, but turned with an air of anxiety to ask in turn:
“Madam, did I hear there were ‘thirteen,’ THIRTEEN?”
“Yes, Miss Milliken. Why?”
“Then I think you’ll have to excuse me. I might follow you later if there were some way but I positively decline to make the thirteenth of any party.”
There certainly was nothing wormlike, or undecided, about the governess, whose lips had closed in such a thin line of obstinacy as changed her whole appearance, while her would-be hostess inquired with amusement:
“Are you superstitious, Miss Milliken? Surely, with your culture and – ”
Helena advanced with an air of authority:
“Milliken, this is absurd! Please get back your common sense. Remember we are guests and have no right to object to anything.”
The chaperon bridled, but kept silence, till Mr. Ford explained:
“Thirteen doesn’t mean the whole party. There’ll be three drivers, besides. Possibly more men picked up along the road. Moreover, thirteen is my ‘lucky number,’ if ‘luck’ is anything. Well, Mrs. Ford, have you arranged the company?”
“No, I cannot. I know them so slightly, as yet, and the best way is to draw lots. How many will the first buckboard carry?”
“Eight, all told. A dozen, if need be. Well, time’s precious! Here’s a lot of matches. The whole ones go in number one, the next lengths in wagon two, and the little ones in the last. See, I’ve snapped them off, and Miss Milliken, as head of the expedition, please draw first!”
The lady flushed and drew. Her lot was in the last and smallest buckboard which would carry but two more beside the driver; and it fell out that her companions would be Alfaretta and Monty Stark. The driver was known as Silent Pete, and it certainly was an odd combination which had resulted from the first “drawing.”
To the leading wagon the “lots” assigned the three Fords and Jedediah, their colored “boy,” with Molly, Helena and Herbert – their driver, Lem Hunt, the most talkative man at San Leon but, also, the crack whip of the ranch.
The driver of the second team was “Tenderfoot Sorrel,” so called because of his red hair and his comparatively recent arrival from the east. He was less familiar with the country than the other two teamsters and had been assigned to the place in the middle of the little cavalcade, so that “he can’t lose hisself afore or ahind, ary way,” as Lemuel explained it.
Naturally, everybody was disappointed at the result of the lots, Mrs. Ford protesting that it was inhospitable to put all her family in one vehicle, and that the best, but that “a Ford should have been in each.”
“Let’s change, then,” begged Monty, “and let one of the girls settle it as she knows we’d like it.”
But Alfy gave him such a frown that he ducked his head, avoiding an imaginary blow, while Miss Milliken as vigorously declared:
“You mustn’t do that. Oh! don’t do that! ’Twould be the very worst luck of all. Something would surely happen!”
“Well, if there doesn’t I shall be disappointed! We’re all eager for adventures, and that’s why I took this long, roundabout way to the ranch. We could have gone there in next to no time, by rail, but that’s too humdrum a thing. Anyhow, I bow to Miss Milliken’s prejudices for the time being. We shall be in sight of each other all the time, I expect, and meet at Roderick’s for our suppers and beds! All off for San Leon that’s going!” cried Mr. Ford, in imitation of a steamboat steward, and taking his wife’s arm led her and her guests out of the hotel.
The trunks and heavier luggage had already gone ahead in other wagons and only suit-cases and hand-bags were on hand. These were hastily bestowed in the boxes of the two less crowded buckboards, and no attention paid to their ownership, since it was expected that all would meet at “Roderick’s,” where every traveller could find his own.
With a blast on his coach horn, a crack of his long whip over his four-in-hand, proud Lemuel led the way along the city street, out of the town, and into the open country beyond.
All the horses attached to the blackboards were the picked ones of the San Leon stables, with a record known as well in the far east as in that wide western land. As one spectator of this gallant start remarked:
“It goes without saying that Dan Ford will drive no second-rate horseflesh, any more ’n he will a second-class railroad. My! See ’em travel! At that gait they’ll pick up the stretch ’twixt here and ‘Roderick’s’ long before nightfall, or I’m no judge.”
“Likely enough, likely enough. Only I don’t like the looks of that second span – I mean the one to the middle buckboard. Them blacks. The boys up to S’ Leon hadn’t no right to trust a tenderfoot to drive them critters!” remarked another observer, as the fretful animals passed out of sight, following their leaders.
Even Lem Hunt looked back once or twice, as they left the city limits, and waved a warning hand toward “T. Sorrel,” who merely tossed his red head and continued to draw upon the reins he should have loosened. Also, Silent Pete opened his lips for once and hallooed to the man ahead:
“Let ’em out, you fool! Give ’em their heads, I say!”
Then he relapsed into his normal condition, attending strictly to his own business and making himself deaf to the timid shrieks of Miss Milliken, from the rear seat. He was known to “hate silly women” and felt his fate a hard one in having to escort such a one as the governess. She, accustomed only to the sedate pace of the fat Montaigne steeds, felt that the spirited animals before that wagon were simply on the road to destruction and nowhere short of it! She clung to her seat-arm with one hand and clutched Pete’s coat collar with the other, frantically beseeching him:
“Do stop! Oh! you – man – just stop – and let me get my breath! I – I bump so – I – I can’t even think!”
But this western jehu merely flicked her fingers off as he would a troublesome fly, while Monty coolly advised:
“Don’t try, Miss Milliken. Fast? Why, they call this mere walkin’ out here. I’m going to take a nap.”
He settled himself sidewise on his seat, folded his arms upon its back, dropped his face upon them and tried to sleep. He was cross. He had wanted to ride in the foremost vehicle with the fine