“Can’t be any worse than the highway,” Marshmallow replied, sending the car into the side road with a twist of the wheel.
It was a rough drive, but fascinating. Twisting in and out between the weirdly shaped buttes and mesas, fording dry streams, skirting deep arroyos, the twisting route soon made everyone lose all sense of direction.
“I think we are getting farther away from the ranch,” Mrs. Mallow said. “Perhaps you had better turn back, Marshall.”
Kitty agreed, too.
“No place to turn,” Marshall said. “I’d hate to get mixed up in that cactus and sand. I shouldn’t even want to meet another car.”
The road twisted out of sight under the face of a gaudy orange cliff, and when the car negotiated the bend everyone sat up straight at the sight of a huge herd of cattle, not only on both sides of the road but on it as well.
“Whew, there must be thousands,” Dave whistled.
Marshmallow stopped the car and honked violently to clear the road.
“The big stupids,” he cried in dismay. “They are doing just the opposite!”
The cattle, smelling the wat£r in the radiator of the automobile, crowded around the car.
“Ooh, Marshmallow!” Kitty cried. “They scare me! Chase them away.
“Why, Doris,” she said, looking at her chum, “you aren’t a bit afraid.”
Doris merely smiled calmly.
“I’m no bull-fighter,” Marshmallow retorted.
A huge white-faced steer laid its chin on the side of the tonneau and stared gloomily at the three feminine autoists in the back seat.
“Shoo!” cried Mrs. Mallow, shaking her finger at the calm-eyed beast.
The curious cattle had now entirely surrounded the car—back, front and sides.
“Beefsteak, beefsteak everywhere but not a bite to eat,” chanted Marshmallow.
“Put her in low gear and inch your way along,” Doris suggested.
“Or else get out and milk some of the cows,” said Dave. “I’m awfully thirsty from the dust.” Marshmallow started the car and moved forward at the lowest speed it was capable of doing. The automobile literally plowed its way through the herd.
“Look at their sides—the brands,” Doris shouted to make herself heard above the bellowing. “A clef—Miss Bedelle’s brand, I’ll bet.”
With the inquisitive cattle at last behind them Mrs. Mallow became concerned again at the uncertain terminus of the road.
“It probably goes to Miss Bedelle’s ranch,” Doris ventured. “From there we can find our way to the Saylor’s place without trouble.”
Marshmallow drove doggedly ahead, and suddenly halted abruptly.
“Something else coming,” he exclaimed. “I hear a noise around the turn.”
Scarcely had he finished speaking when an automobile appeared around the bend. Marshmallow hastily backed, swinging his car half off the crude roadway.
The approaching motor, an expensive new sports roadster, slackened speed and crept slowly past.
Its sole occupant and driver looked at the party curiously, waved in courteous greeting, and sped off toward Raven Rock.
“That looked like Miss Bedelle,” Doris exclaimed.
“She reminds me of somebody I know,” Dave said.
“Me, too,” Doris asserted. “I have it I The stowaway—she looks enough like him to be his sister.”
“You’re right, Doris!” chorused the others.
“I’ll bet the stowaway is her brother,” Doris said. “That would explain his anxiety to get to Raven Rock, don’t you see?”
“But Miss Bedelle is wealthy,” Mrs. Mallow objected. “Certainly no relative of hers would have to steal rides.”
“He may be the black sheep of the rancho,” Dave laughed.
“Yes, he probably is,” Doris agreed. “Anyhow, we will soon find out.”
Marshmallow pointed to a post set up where the road forked. Nailed to the upright was a board on which was crudely lettered “G Clef Ranch” on the half pointing to the left, and “Crazy Bear Ranch” on the right.
Marshmallow steered right, and in half an hour the cottonwoods came into sight, while a few minutes later the car came to a halt in the ranch yard.
“Maybe you don’t realize it,” announced the chauffeur, stretching his sturdy legs, “but it’s after two o’clock and we haven’t had lunch!”
“We have company,” Doris said. “There Comes Ben Corlies, and I do hope he has the missing bag!”
CHAPTER XII
“Buried Treasure”
“No, Ma’am, I didn’t find your bag,” Ben Corlies announced to Mrs. Mallow. “I feel right bad about it, too, because it puts me in a bad light.”
“Not at all,” protested Mrs. Mallow. “You must not feel that way. Of course, I am distressed at losing the bag because I cannot afford to lose so much money, but I blame only my own carelessness.”
“I guess anybody’d get rattled, ridin’ around in one of them flyin’ hen-coops,” Ben replied, shaking his head. “Miss Bedelle, she went off in one of her cars after lunch, but all mornin’ she spent up in the air with that Pete fellow. She’s learnin’ to run it, he tells me. Well, she can beg until she cries, but she won’t get Ben Corlies up in it.”
“Bring Pete down with you soon,” Dave said, as the friends walked over to his car with Ben.
“He’d of come down with me this trip, but he’s busy fiddlin’ around the cloud-hopper,” Ben replied. “Except for bein’ crazy that way he’s right nice.”
“By the way, has Miss Bedelle a brother?” Doris asked suddenly.
Ben started.
“Yes, but nobody mentions him much,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “A young feller, but wild!”
Doris looked at her companions with triumph.
“Fact is, Miss Bedelle took up ranchin’ so’s her young brother would be away from the cities and bad companions,” Ben continued. “But he beat it away from here ’bout a year ago, an’ good riddance.”
Then, as if realizing he had said more than he had intended, Ben abruptly started his car and sped away.
“The plot thickens!” Doris exclaimed dramatically.
“But our hero thins, if there is such a word,” Marshmallow declared. “I’m going to e-a-t, dine!”
Mrs. Saylor was spreading a table in the cool, fragrant dining room.
“I figured you went exploring,” she said with a smile, “so I prepared only a cold lunch. There’s some sliced meats, potato salad and canned pears, and iced tea,” she checked off.
“After lunch,” Marshmallow announced, “I’m going to rest. I’m stiff from riding two different kinds of bronchos—four legged and four wheeled.”
“I feel just like taking it easy in the shade, too,” Kitty added.
“Lazy folks, you two,” Doris scoffed. “What do you say, Dave? Let’s go for a long ride.”
“I’m ready,” Dave agreed. “A good stiff gallop over the hills!”