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Ranch Girls' Pot of Gold

<h2> CHAPTER VII "A LITTLE HOUSE ON WHEELS"</h2> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/quote.png" width-obs="8" height-obs="7" alt="open quote" title="" /></div> OUR caravan looks like the real thing, doesn't it, Jim?" Jean exclaimed, balancing herself insecurely on the front wheel of a mammoth wagon and peering over inside it at a tall figure under the cover. "Do you think we will be able to get off this afternoon?" Jim Colter climbed wearily out and sat on the driver's seat, surveying his questioner gloomily. "Don't you think you might go in the house and dress or fix your hair or something?" he asked. "You have asked me twenty questions in the last ten minutes, and I might be working in the time it takes to answer you. We are going to get away from this ranch to-day if it's dark before we start. It's awful with those Harmons, and you and Jack sleeping at the rancho, and Olive and Frieda and Miss Ruth crowded into one bedroom at the Lodge. I don't see why they couldn't have stayed away from here until after we had gone. They have nearly pestered the life out of me, and now what do you think is the latest?" Jim lit a cigar about half a foot long, so it occurred to Jean that he must intend to continue the conversation with her for at least a few minutes. She caught hold of Jim's hand and swung herself up into the seat beside him. It was about ten o'clock in the morning, ten days after the ranch girls' trip to Laramie. The caravan for their journey to the Yellowstone Park was standing alongside the road midway between Rainbow Lodge and the rancho, where Jim lived. It was a comfortable distance from the Lodge, because Jim preferred any amount of labor in carrying the girls' belongings from their house to the wagon to being compelled to exchange fashionable conversation with the Harmon family and to answer their tenderfoot questions about the affairs of the ranch. Near Jean's and Jim's novel traveling coach, four rough, short-legged ponies and four larger horses tethered to short ropes were quietly grazing. The scene suggested a circus resting for a short time before starting on its travels. The troupe of actors at present included only Jean and Jim, but the circus appeared to be a new and stylish one, for "Mrs. Jarley's" famous caravan was not more spick and span and less like a gypsy cart than the little house on wheels belonging to the ranch girls. Instead of being covered with an ordinary white canvas top, the canopy over the largest of the ranch mess-wagons was made of new, strong and serviceable golden-brown waterproof khaki. The expedition into wonderland was to have a strictly military appearance, for the five girls were to wear service uniforms of the same material. "Well, what's the latest, Jim?" Jean inquired coaxingly, crossing her feet and slipping her arm through her companion's. She was feeling a little sore, for Olive and Jack had gone off driving with Elizabeth and Donald Harmon without asking her to go with them, as the cart held only four people. So Jean was rather glad to gossip about the newly arrived family. Jim frowned darkly in answer to Jean's question. "Well, the first thing—that Harmon fellow marched himself down to the rancho this morning before any of you girls were up and invited me to let him go along on our trip, if you would give your consent. I told him I wasn't thinking of running a co-educational excursion party; my job was to look after girls, not boys." Jim took another long, slow puff at his cigar and was silent. "Do go on, Jim," Jean urged, giving him a friendly nudge. "You know Donald Harmon said something else that made you cross." "Oh, no, except he asked such an all-fired lot of questions," Jim answered. "I didn't see his game at first; he kind of led up to it by degrees. But he wanted to know how long Olive had been living with us and how you girls happened to adopt her and what made her own people give her up. When I found out what he was after I didn't give him the least bit of information. I hate a Paul Pry." Jean laughed lightly, "Oh, it isn't just curiosity on Donald Harmon's part, Jim. Of course, you and Jack would scorn to notice it, but Donald has a crush on Olive. I have seen it from the first. Olive don't like him a bit, but he is always staring at her." Jim threw away his half-finished cigar. "Look here, Jean Bruce, will you please stop talking about crushes and such nonsense?" he remarked sternly. "I never hear any of the other girls talking such foolishness, and I think Miss Ruth ought to see that you put a stop to it. I mean to speak to her about it." "Grouchy," Jean whispered under her breath, then her eyes sparkled wickedly. "Here comes Ruth now; I'll run and tell her that you want to complain of the way she is bringing me up." Jean slid down over the wagon wheel out of the reach of Jim's restraining fingers, and he retired into the covered depth of the wagon, pretending not to have observed Miss Drew's approach. However, Jean fled past her chaperon without a word and only a mischievous nod of her head. Ruth was walking down the road from the Lodge, already dressed for the journey. Little blonde Frieda was on one side of her and little brown Carlos on the other, and all of them had their arms loaded with bundles. Ruth wore a short, plaited skirt which showed her pretty feet clad in high, brown leather boots. A Norfolk jacket, a tan silk blouse and a soft brown felt hat completed her costume. Somehow she seemed to have lost ten years of her age and looked about eighteen. There was no trace of the maidenly primness that had been so conspicuous in the early days of her stay at the Rainbow Ranch. Her figure was pretty enough for a model in a fashion paper; her ash-brown hair and eyes that had once seemed plain when her skin was sallow, now had a picturesque charm of their own. Ruth's coloring suggested Burne-Jones' pictures of English women, with the same dull, even tones in their hair and eyes, and their clear, pallid skins warmed by an inner glow. Frieda's going-away suit was also khaki and made in exactly the same style as the other girls'. She was too funny in it, with her plump body and fat legs. But her eyes under her plain felt hat were bluer than myrtle and her cheeks pinker than a rose. Of the trio approaching the apparently empty caravan, only Carlos' expression was serious. A kind of inner rapture transfigured even his Indian solemnity. To be in the wilderness again and this time not with a roving Indian camp, but with "The Big White Chief," which was his name of Jim, and "The Princess," his title for Olive—the soul of the lad was filled to overflowing. Therefore, since an Indian must never show an emotion of joy or sorrow, Carlos was more silent than ever. No wonder Frieda had lately found him a dull playmate, but then he filled one requirement—he was a good listener. So, on the whole, she was glad he was to be a member of their expedition though she could fancy a companion. "Oh, Mr. Colter," Ruth's voice called, as she drew nearer the caravan, "if you are not too busy here are a few more things you might put in the wagon for us. We saw you hide a few minutes ago." Jim stuck his head out and tried to look as severe as possible, though his companions were not of the kind one could easily treat with severity. "Miss Drew," he said sternly, "if I had known what you girls were going to take on this trip I should never have consented to run it. I lie awake nights wondering how four horses are going to pull such a load, seven people and all this truck," Jim groaned. "I'm glad we've got two extra pack horses and two ponies for riding." Ruth laughed, not in the least disturbed by Jim's complaints. "Please come down out of the wagon, Mr. Colter, and go attend to the last things on the ranch. We are to have an early lunch so we can start soon after. I know I won't have the least trouble in finding a place to store away these things." Jim crawled out submissively, lifting Frieda and Ruth into the van; then, after Carlos climbed in, he left them. The three newcomers stood silent for a moment inside their caravan, speechless with satisfaction, as they surveyed the interior beauty and trimness of their equipage. The frame that supported the khaki cover of the wagon had been made by a cowboy on the ranch who had formerly been a carpenter. He had fashioned two small windows, one on either side, and at these windows Ruth had hung white muslin curtains. Outside the canopy toward the front of the wagon were two broad seats, each capable of holding three persons and shut off from the back by a heavy khaki curtain, while under the canopy were two long benches to rest the travelers by day and to serve Jim and Carlos for beds by night. Suitcases and boxes were stored under the benches and seats, blankets and pillows were rolled tight and crammed into every available space. From a nail in the frame of the wagon hung a large mirror which Jean insisted upon bringing, completely surrounded by pots and pans and important kitchen utensils. There was no great store of provisions; as the caravaners trusted to their guns and fishing tackle for game and fish, and intended to restock their larder in the towns along their route. A plan of campaign had been drawn up and solemnly agreed upon—the five girls were to do the cooking, Jim to look after the horses and set up the sleeping tent, and Carlos to fetch wood and water and teach them all he knew of the lore of the great outdoors. Ruth saw that everything in the little house on wheels was in shipshape order for their start before she and the children returned to the Lodge to see if Olive and Jack were at home. The two girls had been driving around the Rainbow Ranch with Donald and Elizabeth Harmon the greater part of the morning. From the hour of Elizabeth's arrival at the Lodge the day before she had not been willing to let Jack out of her sight. It was very trying, as Jack longed to help with the last preparations for their departure, but, faithful to her promise, with Olive's assistance she was showing off the place, driving an old plough horse hitched to a low yellow cart, which Mr. Harmon had sent from town for his daughter. There was no pony yet safe to use with Elizabeth. They rode along on the far side of Rainbow Creek, the ranch girls pointing out the best fishing pools to Donald and showing him the trails that led to different parts of the ranch. Near the middle of the creek and in sight of the big rock where "Gypsy Joe" had been seen making his investigations, Elizabeth insisted she was tired and they must stop for her to rest. Donald lifted her out and she sat down on the trunk of an old tree with Olive, while Jack and Donald walked a few yards farther on, leaving their horse to wait patiently for them. "I am going to show you a discovery, Mr. Harmon," Jack declared in a friendly fashion, anxious to make their new acquaintance feel at home. "Years ago I found a secret trail along here which no one knew of. It leads from this thick underbrush." Jack got down on her knees before a clump of bushes and parted them. Sure enough there was the beginning of an overgrown path which the eye could follow for a short distance. "I found this trail one day when I was a little girl playing over here with Jean and Frieda," she explained, "and I went on and on for miles until I came to a cave in some rocks, where some settlers had once lived. Jim Colter believes the path was made by gold seekers who came to get water from Rainbow Creek. Some of our other men claim they were searching for gold in our creek." At this moment Elizabeth's impatient voice was heard, and Jack and Donald went back to her, but not before Donald had made up his mind to investigate the mysterious path pointed out to him. He meant to find out whether an eastern tenderfoot could be trusted to find his way along those first trails which the earliest pioneers had left. Olive had been amusing Elizabeth by carving on the stump of a tree an Indian design, a perfect square cut into four equal parts, representing the direction of the four winds. Now Elizabeth insisted that they write their names in the spaces to show the bond of friendship between them. Neither Jack nor Olive wished to promise their friendship so readily to comparative strangers, yet neither of them knew how to deny the sick girl's whim. So the compact was made before they returned home. Ruth and the girls were to have their last luncheon with Mr. and Mrs. Harmon at the Lodge; Jim was not to be with them, as he scorned to have anything to do with the strangers. The last course had been served and they were just getting up from the table when a long, clear call was heard. The five ranch girls sprang instantly to their feet and began to gather up their coats and last remaining parcels. On the front porch farewells were said to Mr. and Mrs. Harmon and Elizabeth and to Aunt Ellen and Uncle Zack. The old woman, who was to stay to look after the newcomers with her husband's help, had her apron over her head and refused to be comforted; Uncle Zack was equally depressed, realizing the loneliness and longing for the girls that they would soon feel. Five khaki figures now sped down the road toward the caravan with Donald, who was trying to assist with the bundles. Seated in the driver's seat, with Carlos next him, and cracking a long whip, was Jim Colter. Every speck of his grouchiness had disappeared; his eyes were as shining and his lips as smiling as Frieda's. "Good-by, Mr. Harmon," Jack said, smiling half sadly at Donald. "Please take good care of things for us at the ranch. I feel almost like a traitor in turning my back on my home." Donald laughed. "Oh, don't worry," he answered kindly. "You will find things just as you left them when you get back. You know we want to borrow, not to steal your place." And for some reason neither Jack nor Donald ever forgot his words. The horn sounded again; Jim turned his horses with their noses toward the western sun, when suddenly there was a loud clanging from the great bell that hung in front of the rancho to summon the cowboys from across the fields. Six cowboys rode in toward the caravan in as many different directions. As the big wagon wheels crunched in the sand with the pack-horses trailing behind and Olive's and Jack's ponies alongside, the six cowboys formed a semicircle, the emblem of the Rainbow Ranch, and cracking their whips in unison let out a tremendous yell. It was the call the Indians use before going into battle and it might have frozen the blood of the uninitiated, but the ranch girls knew it meant good luck and went away with the sound ringing in their ears. The caravan party did not feel they had started on their journey until they crossed the border of their own ranch. The land beyond was familiar enough, but this afternoon it was invested with a new charm. It was a new world, because they had set out on a voyage of discovery, so it was disenchanting when they had ridden a few miles beyond their own place to discover another caravan, smaller and far shabbier than theirs, but still a caravan, drawn up by the side of a solitary tree along the road. A ragged girl nursing a baby was resting in the grass and an old woman was bending over a freshly lit camp-fire. There was no man in sight, but Jim recognized the wayfarers with a sudden tightening of his lips before any one of the girls spoke. "Why, there are our gypsies!" Jean declared lightly. "And, Ruth, there is the old woman who told us our fortunes. She said you were going on a journey, and sure enough you are! I wonder if any other of her predictions will come true. She told us such a jumble of things and most of it was such utter nonsense that I can't remember half of them." Ruth leaned over toward the front seat: "Have you any idea why those people are staying around in this neighborhood, Mr. Jim?" she asked, using her new name for him for the first time. "No," Jim answered truthfully, beaming approval of his title. An hour or so afterwards Jack and Olive were riding ahead of the wagon looking for a suitable place to strike camp for the night. There was no water near, but a tiny clump of trees offered a certain shelter, and they went toward it. From a cluster of bushes a western bluebird, which is bluer than all others, rose up and soared over the girls' heads, homing toward its nest in the trees. It was a wonderful darting ray of splendid color against the orange glow of the setting sun. Olive clapped her hands softly. "O Jack, do let's get Jim to pitch our tent here for the night. That was a bluebird that flew across our path, and it's a good omen: 'the bluebird for happiness'—don't you remember the play Ruth read us?" <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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