nd the ranch?"

There was a moment's tense silence. The boys were staring, wide-eyed and
appalled, into each other's faces.

From somewhere came a deep sigh.

"Gorry!--she can't, she just can't, after all her book-learnin' and
culturin'," groaned a new voice.

For a time no one spoke; then Reddy cleared his throat.

"Look a-here, there ain't but jest one thing to do. If she don't like
the ranch--and us--we'll jest have to make the ranch--and us--so she
will like 'em."

"How?" demanded a skeptical chorus.

"Slick 'em up--and us," retorted the sandy-haired man, with finality. "I
was raised East, and I know the sort of doin's they hanker after.
To-morrow mornin' we'll begin. I'll show you; you'll see," he finished
in a louder tone, as Teresa's clanging supper bell sent them in a
stampede through the long covered way that led to the dining-room which,
with the cook room, occupied the large, low building thirty feet to the
rear of the ranch house.

* * * * *

When Tim Nolan arrived at the Bolo station a little before noon two days
later, he stared in open-mouthed wonder at the sight that greeted his
eyes. In a wavering, straggling line stood ten stiff, red-faced,
miserable men, dressed in what was, to Tim Nolan, the strangest
assortment of garments he had ever seen.

Two of the men were in dead black, from head to foot. Four wore stiff,
not over-clean white shirts. Six sported flaming red neckties. One had
unearthed from somewhere a frock coat three sizes too small for him,
which he wore very proudly, however, over a flannel shirt adorned with a
red-and-green silk handkerchief knotted at the throat. Another displayed
a somewhat battered silk hat. But, whatever they wore, each showed a
face upon which hope, despair, pride, shame, and physical misery were
curiously blended.

For an instant Tim Nolan peered at them with unrecognizing eyes; then
he gave a low ejaculation.

"Reddy! Carlos! Jim! Boys!" he gasped. "What in the world is the meaning
of this?"

"Eet ees that we welcome the little Senorita an' her frien's," bowed
Pedro, doffing his sombrero which was the only part of his usual costume
that he had retained.

"But--I don't understand," demurred the foreman; "these rigs of yours!
Reddy, where in time did you corral that coat?"

Reddy shifted from one uneasy foot to the other.

"Pedro's told you--we're here to welcome the little mistress, of course.
We've slicked up. We-