"What do you suppose I care?" snarled Mary Cox.
"I guess you care what Tom Cameron thinks of you," pursued Heavy, wagging her head. "But after the way you started those ponies when we drove to Rolling River Canon, you can be sure that you don't stand high with him—or with any of the rest of the boys."
"Pooh! those cowboys! Great, uneducated gawks!"
"But mighty fine fellows, just the same. I'd a whole lot rather have their good opinion than their bad."
Now all this was, for Jennie Stone, pretty strong language. She was usually so mild of speech and easy-going, that its effect was all the greater. The Fox eyed her in some surprise and—for once—was quelled to a degree.
All these discussions occurred on Monday. The Rolling River Camp was twenty miles away in the direction of the mountain range. Tuesday was the day set for the trip. The party would travel with the supply wagon and a bunch of ponies for the herders, bossed by Maria's husband. On Wednesday the young folk would return under the guidance of little Ricardo, who was to go along to act as camp-boy.
"But if we like it out there, Uncle Bill, maybe we'll stay till Thursday," Jane Ann declared,
