Part 13 (1/2)

Another moment and he had made off down the road, and Mary went quietly back to her work.

CHAPTER IX.-THE GIRL FROM THE GOLDEN WEST.

”It's like being in a play, Elinor,” whispered Mary, who was sitting next to her at the long dinner table in the dining room of the little hotel. ”They are all here, cowboys and curious looking people. And there were two Indians at the door a moment ago. The cowboys are like Barney McGee. They have good, rough manners.”

The Motor Maids felt as if they had known that ingratiating young man a long time now. Twice he had bobbed up unexpectedly on their journey, and finally made them promise to visit the ranch where he lived in Southern Wyoming, if only for a half a day.

The room they were in was low-ceiled with wooden walls and bare board floors. At one side was a large yellow oak sideboard where stood rows of gla.s.s tumblers in which folded fringed napkins with red borders had been stuck, like so many bouquets. The table was filled with guests and two shabby looking young waitresses handed the dishes with a kind of careless abandon which seemed to be in keeping with the place.

Many of the people were to take the stage next morning to a ranch which was conducted as a sanitarium. There were several trained nurses who had brought their patients along, and Billie turned her eyes away from one young man whose pale face and sunken chest made her ashamed of her own glowing health and sunburned cheeks.

Not even in Europe had Billie seen such an interesting and varied collection of people in one dining room as she now saw in this remote and obscure little western inn. There was a group of young Englishmen who had bought a great cattle ranch and were on their way to inspect it.

There was a party of men traveling West by motor car. Two of them were famous millionaires, she heard it whispered. But most interesting of all, and the one on whom the Motor Maids cast many covert and curious glances, was a beautiful young woman who seemed to be traveling alone.

It so happened that she was placed next to Miss Campbell, who had gathered her charges under her wing at one end of the table, as an anxious little hen gathers her chicks, but by leaning over, they were able to see the strange girl's lovely face; her hazel eyes and red gold hair half hidden under a broad brimmed riding hat. She wore a khaki riding suit with divided skirts, and knotted about her neck was a beautiful burnt orange silk scarf that seemed to tone in with the yellow of her eyes and hair.

They wondered where her party was. Evidently she did not belong to any one at the table for she spoke to no person and scarcely lifted her eyes from her plate.

”Perhaps her mother is ill and she has had to come down alone,” thought Elinor, who had conventional ideas rooted so deeply in her soul that nothing could stir them.

”May I ask you for the b.u.t.ter?” Miss Campbell had said in her most polite and perfect manner, and that had started the conversational ball a-rolling.

”With pleasure,” answered the strange girl promptly, ”although I am afraid you'll be disappointed with the bread. It's quite soggy.”

”Perhaps you will allow me to offer you some of our zwieback,” put in Miss Campbell, stretching forth her hand for the box. ”We have it sent to us from time to time, because we simply cannot eat the bread out here.”

”You are traveling West?” asked the girl.

Then Miss Campbell, always ready and willing to make friends, explained and introduced the Motor Maids.

There was something extremely appealing about the beautiful face of the stranger, and when presently she saw that she was attracting the notice of other people at the table, she blushed and pulled her hat well down over her face, and drew nearer to Miss Campbell's side. The girls liked her from the first. Then there was the mystery about her which added to her charm-the mystery of whom she was and where she was going. She had asked questions, but had volunteered nothing about herself.

After dinner they strolled into the hall of the hotel, which served as a sort of lobby, where they hoped to find letters awaiting them from the evening mail. The girl followed them timidly.

”I hope I'm not in the way or presuming too much,” she said to Miss Campbell, as they proceeded into the hotel parlor to wait for the mail stage.

”Not at all, my dear,” answered the kind soul. ”If it is any pleasure to you, I'm sure it is a great pleasure to us. Are you alone?”

”Yes,” hesitated the girl.

”You are taking a riding trip?” Miss Campbell looked at the riding suit.

”Yes.”

”Alone?”

”Yes.”

”Don't you think it just a little bit of a risk, my dear?”