“KingBorriaBungaleeBoo,
Wasaman-eatingAfricanswell,
Hissighwasahullaballoo,
Hiswhisperahorribleyell—A
horrible,horribleyell!

“Foursubjectsandallofthemmale
ToBorriadoubledtheknee,
Theywereonceonafarlargerscale,
Buthe’deatenthebalance,yousee—Scale
andbalanceispunning,yousee!

“Scale and balance is punning, you see!” roared the chorus.

Miss Campbell and the girls exchanged rather amazed glances.

They had drawn up in front of a long low rancho. It was quite dark, but from an inside court they could hear the tinkle of a banjo accompanying a deep baritone voice, with many other deep voices joining in the chorus. The singing went on:

“TherewashaughtyPish-Tush-Pooh-Bah,
TherewaslumberingDoodle-Dum-Dey,
DespairingAlack-a-Dey-Ah
AndgoodlittleTootle-Tum-Teh!
ExemplaryTootle-Tum-Teh,”

rang the chorus.

“My dear, I don’t think we’d better try it,” said Miss Campbell. “It sounds very rough. I feel quite uneasy—it’s very much of an adventure at any rate.”

The truth is the five ladies had done an exceedingly reckless thing. Barney McGee had invited them to come and see a real ranch, and they had accepted his invitation. At first Miss Campbell had declined. It was rather too much to expect him to entertain five guests. Besides, how could he when he was not owner of the ranch. He was part owner, he said. But if they preferred they could stop at Steptoe Lodge just as they could at an inn—engage rooms, that is. His cousin, Brek Steptoe and his wife often had boarders—people who came for their health.

Nebraska was filled with Easterners who were trying to gain health in the West, and the good State not only often gave them health but wealth too—fine strong bodies and work that paid.

Therefore the motorists had taken down detailed directions from Barney McGee, but they had not arrived at Steptoe Lodge as soon as they had expected. An exploded tire had caused a long delay. No doubt Mrs. Steptoe had given them up for the day now, for it was long after dark when they finally found themselves at the rancho.

A light streamed out from a door suddenly opened, and the voices in the court yard grew louder as the song progressed.

“ThereismusicalDoh-Reh-Mi-Fah,
ThereisthenightingaleDoh-Reh-Mi-Fah.”

“Does Mr. McGee live here?” asked Billie timidly of a tall athletic looking young man who had opened the door. He was dressed in buckskin with high boots, a blue flannel shirt and a silk handkerchief knotted around his neck. The girls thought him quite the most picturesque person they had seen since they left home. Even in the darkness they could see the deep flush of embarrassment mount to his face.

“There is a Mr. McGee who lives here—yes,” he answered, choking with bashfulness.

“Will you ask him to come out at once, please,” said Miss Campbell, with a growing uneasiness that there might be some mistake.

But her fears were immediately allayed, for Barney himself came running around the side of the rancho.

“Ladies, I hope you’ll excuse me for not bein’ on the spot as soon as you arrived. I waited for you some hours on the door step. Tell the fellers to shut up, Jim, and stop starin’ there like a wooden injun. Call Rosina. Tell her the ladies have arrived.”

The place suddenly became as still as the grave, and by the time the Motor Maids and Miss Helen had alighted and been conducted into a cemented courtyard around which the house was built, after the Spanish style, there was not a person to be seen except Jim, who followed obediently with some of the luggage.

Rosina Steptoe, who had married Barney’s cousin, Brek Steptoe, now hurried into the room. She was a wiry little woman with a dark swarthy face, beady black eyes, black hair and a rather sweet expression which saved her from being really very ugly. The girls thought at first she might have some Spanish blood. Her manners were gracious and she shook hands with them cordially when Barney made the introductions.

“Will you come right in to supper?” she said, without asking them to go to their rooms. “We want to get through early because Barney is giving a dance for you to-night, and the people will be coming before we finish if we don’t hurry.”

“Dear, dear,” ejaculated Miss Campbell under her breath.

They had not counted on being entertained by the cowboy, and began to wonder what they had been drawn into.

Feeling very dusty and a little tired from their trip across the plains, they followed Mrs. Steptoe into one of the rooms opening on the court. It was a very large apartment with little furniture in it except a long table and the inevitable oak sideboard which always gave Billie the horrors. They afterwards learned that it was the pride of Mrs. Steptoe’s heart, and had been bought in the East at a great sacrifice.

Four men were waiting at the table: Barney McGee, Brek Steptoe, who was a handsome, middle aged man with a weather-beaten face; Tony Blackstone, whom the girls discovered presently was English. It was he who had done the singing they found; also he had good manners and was not at all bashful, but very quiet. Jim made the fourth man.

As they sat down at table, a Chinaman thrust his head in the door and then disappeared. Mrs. Steptoe herself waited on them and the food was really much better than they had expected.

Nancy was seated next to Jim, who, when she was not looking, devoured her with his eyes, and when she turned to him, dropped his lids and flushed crimson as if he had been caught in a felony.

“We didn’t know there was to be a party,” she said to him innocently. “You see we aren’t traveling with much baggage. I’m afraid we can’t dress up properly.”

“Clothes don’t matter out here, Miss——” he began.

“Nancy,” she finished.

“Miss Nancy,” he repeated, and then said it over to himself as if the name pleased him mightily.

“People don’t come to see the clothes. It’s the dancing they want to see and—and——”

“And what?” she demanded.

“And the gir—the ladies. You see we don’t have many of them out here and they are all married.”

“Every girl is a belle in this part of the country, I suppose,” observed Nancy. “Even the ugly ones.”

Jim assented, regarding Nancy’s charming face as if he had never seen a girl before in all his life.

“And as for the pretty ones, Miss——”

“Nancy.”

“Miss Nancy, they are fairly worshipped.”

“Are there any pretty ones?” she asked.

“There weren’t until you came,” replied Jim almost in a whisper, and then dropped his knife on the floor. He stooped for so long to find it that Nancy thought he must have had a sudden attack of vertigo. She was sure of it when he finally lifted his crimson face.

“I think I have one pretty dress,” she said irrelevantly, looking into Jim’s eyes with just a ghost of a smile. “I think it would be nice to dress up a little. Don’t you?”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” muttered Jim. Then, once more, plucking up courage, he asked: “Can I have the first dance?”

In the meantime, Mr. Steptoe was explaining many things to Miss Campbell regarding the rounding up of cattle and life on the plains.

“There are no more real cowboys,” he said, “except in the Buffalo Bill Show. They are passing out. Barney here is about as good a representative of the class as there is.”

“And Tony,” suggested Barney.

“Tony is a good imitation but he’s not the real thing because he wasn’t born to it. Was you Tony?”

The man named Blackstone frowned.

“Birth has nothing to do with it,” he answered, and quickly changed the subject.

“He’s the younger son of an English lord,” whispered Steptoe, “but he don’t like to have it mentioned.”

It was rather surprising on the whole to see how polite these rough men were. Following Tony’s example, they stood up when the ladies filed out of the room, led by Rosina Steptoe.

Bedrooms in the Steptoe rancho were not luxurious apartments by any means. There were no bathrooms and only small ewers of water supplied the wants of the guests.

“I feel as if I had the yellow jaundice,” exclaimed Nancy, as she critically examined her features in a small wooden framed mirror back of the washstand. There was no dressing table.

“To the naked eye you appear to be perfectly healthy and normal,” replied Billie, “but I suppose Miss Nancy-Bell, you are taking notice with a view to dressing up, and for my part, I think we should go down just as we are. It’s a cowboy dance.”

There was a continuous argument about clothes between Nancy and Billie which Miss Campbell invariably had to settle. On this occasion Miss Campbell was for appearing as spectators at the dance and not as active guests. She had not counted on being entertained at the Lodge, and she was unable to conceal her misgivings.

“I think it would be very rude not to dress up,” cried Nancy hotly. “Mrs. Steptoe is going to wear a pink cotton crÊpe. She told me she was, and they are all looking forward to seeing us in—well—something different than this.”

The other girls laughed teasingly.

“Anything to show off that new frock of yours, Nancy,” cried Billie. “Cowboys and Indians will do if you can’t find a better audience.”

Nancy was offended. She flushed hotly and her eyes filled with tears. She had very sensitive feelings somewhere hidden under her gay careless manner.

“Bless its heart! Are its feelings hurt?” exclaimed Billie, putting her arms around her friend’s neck and kissing her warmly. “I wouldn’t have gone fer to hurt its feelings for anything in the world. It shall wear its little folderols if it chooses, shan’t it, Cousin, and put on all its ribbons and laces.”

“Silly old tease,” said Nancy, laughing through her tears. “You’re just as anxious as anybody to dress up only you’re too proud to admit it because you’re afraid people will think you are vain.”

“Go along with you, you foolish children, and get into your clothes,” here interrupted Miss Campbell. “If Nancy wants to appear in a party frock, I think it won’t do any harm to these poor isolated ranchmen.”

It so happened, therefore, that the girls, in another twenty minutes, for the first time since they had left Sevenoaks, the home of their friend, Daniel Moore, attired themselves in their prettiest gowns. Only simple muslin frocks, but with plenty of hand embroidery and lace insertions to make them fine, and ribbon bows to set them off.

Nancy, beguiling creature that she was, tied a pink satin ribbon around her curly hair, and the picture she made when she entered the dining room in her white dress with her floating ribbons and dainty little black patent leather pumps, was a sight Jim was not to forget in a hurry.

Elinor might have been a young princess who had condescended to step out of the back door of her palace and mingle with her low subjects for a brief space. She held her head with its coronet braids slightly higher than usual in the strange company which now began to congregate.

She wore a straight white dress all fine tucks and embroidery without a sign of lace or ribbon to mar the effect of very elegant simplicity. Billie had tied around the smooth rolls of her light brown hair a blue velvet band to match the embroidery on her marquisette dress. She was a glowing picturesque figure, her face flushed with interest and enthusiasm. Mary, who always falls to the last in our descriptions, perhaps because she is so small and unassuming, wore a soft white mulle frock with a pale blue Roman sash knotted around her waist, a relic of her mother’s own girlhood.

You may imagine, I am sure, what a sensation our dainty young girls and Miss Campbell, in a beautiful gray silk, made on the rough company now assembled. There were subdued murmurs of surprise and admiration. The few plain weather-beaten looking women who had driven miles across the plains for a glimpse of the Motor Maids, looked down hastily at their own pitiful attempts at finery, and ranchmen and cowboys craned their necks for a glimpse of the fair vision which had been vouchsafed them.

On a table at the far end of the room sat the two musicians, Mexicans. Each with a guitar and a fiddle. The kerosene lamps, hung against reflectors on the wall, cast a yellow glow on the scene so new to the travelers. Five chairs had been arranged in a row at the other end of the room as places of honor for the Eastern guests, who might have been five new prima donnas at the opera for the intense interest they excited.

The music now set up a whining jig tune. There was an embarrassed shuffling of feet for a moment, and clearing of throats. Presently two cowboys started to dancing the old fashioned polka together, and in a jiffy the whole company was whirling about the room madly. The five Easterners looked on for a while quite gravely. In the joy of the dance they had been quite forgotten.

Not quite forgotten, for Jim now appeared, handsome as a picture, with a new red silk handkerchief knotted around his neck, his black hair as smooth and slick as brush and water could make it.

“Are you willing to try it?” he asked, bowing before Nancy, who little knew what struggles between bashfulness and courage now rent his soul.

“I was wondering where you were,” she said smiling sweetly as she floated away with him like a soap bubble on a summer breeze.

Tony Blackstone then asked Elinor to dance, and she had condescended, comforting herself with the secret knowledge that he was the son of an English lord. Barney McGee had led forth Mary. And Mrs. Steptoe, having introduced her brother, whose name Billie had failed to catch, that young woman had permitted herself to be circled around once. But her partner did not please her for some reason and she preferred to sit with Miss Helen and watch the dancers.

“Are you tired so soon?” he asked.

“No,” she answered, always truthful under the most trying circumstances, “but I don’t care to dance.”

The man flashed an angry glance at her and for the first time she looked in his face. Where had she seen those dark scowling eyes before?

“I didn’t catch your name,” she said. “I would like to introduce you to my cousin.”

“Hawkes,” he answered in an almost threatening tone of voice.

“Why, you are—” but she never finished the sentence for the man named Hawkes had abruptly turned away.

“Strange,” said Billie to herself, reflecting inwardly on the passing likenesses one sees everywhere. “But, no, it is impossible, for this man is very well dressed, better than any man in the room, I think, and besides he’s Rosina Steptoe’s brother.”