Part 18 (2/2)

”Romance!” chuckled Joy. ”It's not what I call romance.”

”Dark brown eyes and a heavenly smile on the face of a boy, is your only idea of romance. You are a silly girl!” Bet shrugged her boyish shoulders and laughed at Joy as she undid her long rope, and standing up straight, tried to send the loop over a stump in the manner approved by Tommy Sharpe, her teacher. Her efforts were not very successful.

Out of twenty attempts she managed one that coiled over the spot that she was aiming at. Bet decided then and there that she would not make a good cowboy. While she practised the throw again and again, she continued to talk to Joy who seemed half vexed as she snapped:

”You needn't talk about liking boys, Bet Baxter. I don't blush every time the mail arrives and a letter is handed me. And you seem to have no objection to dreamy brown eyes yourself. I've seen the way you looked at Phil Gordon. Now Phil's eyes haven't got enough snap in them for me--they're altogether too brooding to suit me. I think that young Mexican's eyes are much more exciting.”

”Why, Joy Evans, how dare you say that I like to look at Phil's eyes?

He's a dear boy, one of our best chums, but I don't think at all about his eyes,” retorted Bet.

”You don't think his eyes are nice? Answer me, Bet?” teased s.h.i.+rley.

”They're all right I tell you, but I think you girls are just too horrid trying to insinuate that I'm in love with Phil,” protested Bet, her face flus.h.i.+ng, her blue eyes snapping with anger.

”We don't have to insinuate anything, Bet. You give yourself away every time his name is mentioned,” was Joy's emphatic reply.

”I move we change the subject. It's a sore point with me for I'm half in love with Phil myself,” laughed Kit. ”He's one of the nicest boys I've ever seen. But when Bet's around he won't even notice me.”

”What will Bob say to that?” laughed the impish Joy for it was no secret that Bob Evans had lost his heart to the Arizona girl from the first time he met her. His heart was hers to crush or treasure as she saw fit. But at present Kit preferred to hold on to her girlhood and not allow the thought of love and grown-up responsibilities to enter her head.

That was one nice thing about the relations.h.i.+p of the girls and their boy friends. There was comrades.h.i.+p and loyal friends.h.i.+p.

Bet suddenly jumped down from her perch on the cliff and said disgustedly: ”Joy Evans, I think you are corrupting all of us with your silly ideas regarding boys. I love Bob and Phil and Paul Breckenridge and Tommy Sharpe just exactly the same, and I won't be teased about any one in particular.”

”Methinks thou dost protest too much, my dear!” exclaimed Joy tantalizingly. ”We'll change the subject for the time, but when I get you alone, Bet Baxter, I'll make you own up that Phil Gordon is a little dearer to you than any of them.” Joy dodged and slid from the granite rock just in time to miss the loop of rope that Bet had aimed at her with no gentle hand.

”Come on girls, you selfish things, give your horses a chance,” and Kit stroked Powder's muzzle and gave him a nosebag of oats. All the girls followed her example, then while the potatoes were getting ready, Bet took a book from her pack behind the saddle and lost herself in a story.

”Do read aloud, Bet,” begged Enid, dropping down beside her friend. ”I will always remember how you read to me on Campers' Trail when I was hurt.”

So while Kit tended the fire, keeping a bed of hot coals just right for the baking, and s.h.i.+rley fried steak and cooked the corn, Enid stretched out on a flat rock and listened to Bet. She had chosen ”The Wonderful Window” by Dunsany, and when she finished Enid sighed softly.

”I like a story that gives you something to think about,” said Bet, moved by the loveliness of the tale.

”I don't see anything particularly nice to think about in that story, Bet,” objected Joy with a shrug. ”It isn't lively enough to suit me.”

”Of course you wouldn't!” laughed Enid. ”Your idea of a story is Cinderella. There has to be a girl, a prince and a wedding. Isn't that right?”

”Of course,” answered the b.u.t.terfly girl, twirling about on her toes as usual. ”It's the only kind that counts. I wouldn't give a snap of my finger for any other kind.”

With a bound, Bet jumped to her feet, caught the slight form of Joy, lifted her clear off the ground, then ran with her down to the creek.

”Come on, Enid, this girl needs to have her head soaked in cold water.

Let's do it.” And in spite of the protests of the kicking, shrieking Joy, the girls managed to get her to a pool of water in the creek bed.

”Now, Joy Evans, will you behave yourself?”

<script>