Blue Bonnets Ranch Party | Page 8

back to the ranch."
"Thank goodness for that!" breathed Uncle Joe devoutly. "Elizabeth
came mighty hard. It didn't fit, somehow. I reckon you're glad to get
home, Blue Bonnet?"
"Glad? Why, there isn't a word in the whole English dictionary that
means just what I feel, Uncle Joe," replied Blue Bonnet, perching on
the arm of his chair. "I love every inch of the state of Texas."
The two men exchanged a significant glance that was not lost on Blue
Bonnet.
"Oh, I know what you are thinking of, Uncle Cliff. You remember the
day when I said I hated the West and all it stood for. I meant that
too--then. But I feel different now. It isn't that I'm sorry I went away; I
just had to go, feeling as I did. I reckon I'll always be that way--I have
to find things out for myself."
Uncle Joe smiled humorously. "Reckon we're most of us built that way,
eh, Cliff?"
Mr. Ashe gave a rueful nod. "Yes, what the other fellow has been
through doesn't count for much. We all have to blister our fingers
before we'll believe that fire really burns."
They were all silent for a moment.
"Has any one seen Solomon?" asked Blue Bonnet suddenly.
"I think Don is showing him over the ranch," replied Uncle Joe. "I saw
them both headed for the stables a while ago."
"I'm glad they're going to get on well," said Blue Bonnet in a relieved
tone. "I was afraid Don would be jealous." She gave a clear loud
whistle, and a moment later the two animals came racing across the
yard, tumbling over each other in their eagerness to be first up the steps.

Blue Bonnet stooped and picked up the smaller dog, fondling him and
saying foolish things. Don, the big collie, gave a low whine and looked
up at her piteously.
"Not jealous, did you say?" laughed Uncle Joe.
Blue Bonnet patted the collie's head. "Good dog," she said soothingly.
"You're too big to be carried, Don." Then she put down Solomon and
bending put a hand under Don's muzzle; his soft eyes met hers
affectionately. "I'm going to put Solomon in your charge--understand?
You must warn him about snakes, Don,--and don't let the coyotes get
him." A sharp bark from Don Blue Bonnet was satisfied to take for an
affirmative answer, and with another pat sent him off for the night.
"Has Alec some place to sleep?" inquired Blue Bonnet, her hospitable
instincts suddenly and rather tardily aroused.
"Benita has put him in the ell by me. He's there now, unpacking
to-night so that he won't have to waste any time to-morrow. I never saw
a boy so keen about ranch-life as he is. He seems to look on himself as
a sort of pioneer in a new country," Uncle Joe chuckled.
"It's all new to him," rejoined Blue Bonnet. "This is his first glimpse of
the West. I hope he gets strong and well out here--General Trent
worries so about him."
"It will be the making of him," Uncle Cliff assured her. "He'll go back
to Massachusetts as husky as Pinto Pete, if he'll just learn to live
outdoors, and leave books alone for a while."
"I'm going to hide every book he has brought with him," declared Blue
Bonnet. "And Sarah Blake will need looking after--she has the book
habit, too."
Uncle Joe shook his head. "It seems to be a germ disease they have
back there in Massachusetts. Glad you didn't catch it, Blue Bonnet."
"Oh, I'm immune!" laughed she, as she said good-night and went to

seek Benita.
She found her old nurse in the kitchen, resting after an arduous day.
Gertrudis, the famous cook "loaned" for the summer by a neighboring
ranch, was mixing something mysterious in a wooden bowl, while her
granddaughter Juanita, a nut-brown beauty, pirouetted about the room,
showing off her new rosettes in a Spanish dance.
Blue Bonnet clapped her hands. "That's a pretty step, Juanita,--will you
teach it to me some day?"
"Si, Señorita," she assented eagerly, showing all her white teeth in a
delighted smile. "It is the cachucha."
"The girls will all want to learn it," Blue Bonnet assured her. She draw
Benita into the dining-room and then gave her a hearty squeeze.
"Everything's just lovely, you old dear," she cried. "The girls are crazy
about the nursery, and they think you are the dearest ever!"
Benita's wrinkled face beamed. "If the Señorita is pleased, old Benita is
happy," she said deprecatingly.
"Benita, I missed you dreadfully, off there in Woodford. I had to make
my own bed and do my own mending!"
Benita gave an odd little sound of distress. "But Benita will do it now,"
she urged anxiously.
"You'll have to get around Grandmother