To Old Heck their presence meant nothing less than calamity. Long years
of he-man association had made him dread the petty restraints he
imagined would be imposed by intimate contact with womankind. Good lord,
a man wouldn't be able even to cuss freely, and without embarrassment,
with a couple of women in the house and prowling around the ranch!

Skinny, Bert, Chuck, Pedro, Charley, the Ramblin' Kid, even the Chink
cook and Parker, quivered with excitement and curiosity behind thinly
veiled pretense of fear and horror. Secretly they rejoiced. It was
marvelous news borne by the telegram Skinny brought. Here would be
diversion ample, unusual, wholly worth while and filled with
possibilities of romance as luring as the first glimpse of a strange new
land shadowed with mystery and promise of thrilling adventure.

Sing Pete paddled back to the unfinished business of the kitchen,
chattering excitedly. The cowboys stood mutely and stared at Old Heck
and the fatal slip of yellow paper.

"What'll I do?" Old Heck asked the group despairingly. "They'll ruin
everything."

"Can't you head 'em off, somehow?" Parker suggested.

"Can't be done. They're already on their way and probably somewhere this
side of Kansas City by now."

"Find out which train they're on and let the Ramblin' Kid and me cut
across to the Purgatory River bridge and wreck it," Skinny Rawlins,
always tragic, darkly advised.