the ranch buildings. There was a feeling of waiting.

We were discovered and acclaimed with a wild yell that brought everybody
running. Immediately we were surrounded. Escorted by a clamouring
multitude we moved slowly down the lane and into the enclosure.

There awaited us a dozen men headed by Buck Johnson. They emerged from
the office as we drew up. At sight of them the cowboys stopped, and we
moved forward alone. For here were the substantial men of this part of
the territory, the old timers, who had come in the early days and who
had persisted through the Indian wars, the border forays, the cattle
rustlings, through drought and enmity and bad years. A grim, elderly,
four-square, unsmiling little band of granite-faced pioneers, their very
appearance carried a conviction of direct and, if necessary, ruthless
action. At sight of them my heart leaped. Twenty-four hours previous my
case had seemed none too joyful. Now, mainly by my own efforts, after
all, I was no longer alone.

They did not waste time in vain congratulations or query. The occasion
was too grave for such side issues. Buck Johnson said something very
brief to the effect that he was glad to see us safe.

"If this young lady will come in first," he suggested.

But I was emboldened to speak up.

"This young lady has not had a bite to eat since last night," I
interposed.

The señor bent on me his grave look.