"Uh-huh," nodded Mr. Hicks.
"Wal, you're gittin' foolish-like in your old age, Bill," declared his friend.
"No I ain't; I'm gittin' wise," retorted the ranchman, with a wide grin.
"How's that?"
"I'm l'arnin' how to git along with Jane Ann," declared Mr. Hicks, with a delighted chortle, and pinching the freckled girl beside him.
"Ouch!" exclaimed his niece. "What's the matter, Uncle Bill?"
"He says he's bought this contraption to please you, Jane Ann," said the storekeeper. "But what'll Old Trouble-Maker do when he sees it—heh?"
"Gee!" ejaculated the ranchman. "I never thought o' that steer."
"I reckon Old Trouble-Maker will have to stand for it," scoffed the ranchman's niece, tossing her head. "Now, Sally, you ride out and see us. These girls from down East are all right. And we're going to have heaps of fun at Silver Ranch after this."
Helen Cameron touched a lever and the big car shot ahead again.
"She's a mighty white girl, that Sally Dickson," declared Jane Ann Hicks (who hated her name and preferred to be called "Nita").
