"We'll have to take it in," I said promptly. "I'm anxious to see a Montana
dance, myself."

"We aren't in their set," gloomed Frosty, with diplomatic caution. "I
won't swear they're sending out engraved invitations, but, all the same,
we won't be expected."

"We'll go, anyhow," I answered boldly. "If they want to see cow-punchers,
it seems to me the Ragged H can enter a bunch that will take first
prize."

Frosty looked at me, and permitted himself to smile. "Uh course, if you're
bound to go, Ellis, I guess there's no stopping yuh--and some of us will
naturally have to go along to see yuh through. King's minions would sure
do things to yuh if yuh went without a body-guard." He shook his head, and
cupped his hands around a match-blaze and a cigarette, so that no one
could tell much about his expression.

"I'm bound to go," I declared, taking the cue. "And I think I do need some
of you to back me up. I think," I added judicially, "I shall need the
whole bunch."

The "bunch" looked at one another gravely and sighed. "We'll have t' go,
I reckon," they said, just as though they weren't dying to play the
unexpected guest. So that was decided, and there was much whispering among
groups when they thought the wagon-boss was near, and much unobtrusive
preparation.

It happened that the wagons pulled in close to the ranch the day before