she's pritty, some not. Got an elegant figger, 'cordin' to hearsay. Sort of slimsy. Not peaked or frail, but small built. I reckon she's a lady by all they say. That's one reason I wanted to talk with you about them. The boys are talkin' of givin' a surprise party, but I don't reckon they will."
Sheridan leaned forward in his chair.
"What boys?"
"The bunch of shorthorns that Hollister trails with."
"We can't stand for that, Red. Those two women alone!" He got up and strode up and down the verandah. "We'll have to stop that sort of thing."
"I thought you'd say somethin' of the kind. But it won't happen yet awhile, though I'll keep my eyes peeled an' my ears cocked."
"Why do you say it won't happen yet awhile?"
"Because there's one thing they are all agreed upon, unanimous, in the face of the fact that the wimmen are there. Leastwise we know they're there. The folks in Metzal on'y know they started out for Ghost Mountain an' was seen makin' for it an' never come back. What they're agreed on is, one an' all, in Pioche as well as Metzal, that there ain't no way to get up Ghost Mountain short of flyin'. It sure stumps me how they did it."
"If they found a trail, Hollister and his gang will nose it out," answered Sheridan. "It's just the devilish sort of thing they'd delight in, to start a chivaree and scare those women half to death, if
