Chapter 9 -THE GIRL FROM THE GOLDEN WEST.

"It's like being in a play, Elinor," whispered Mary, who was sitting next to her at the long dinner table in the dining room of the little hotel. "They are all here, cowboys and curious looking people. And there were two Indians at the door a moment ago. The cowboys are like Barney McGee. They have good, rough manners."

The Motor Maids felt as if they had known that ingratiating young man a long time now. Twice he had bobbed up unexpectedly on their journey, and finally made them promise to visit the ranch where he lived in Southern Wyoming, if only for a half a day.

The room they were in was low-ceiled with wooden walls and bare board floors. At one side was a large yellow oak sideboard where stood rows of glass tumblers in which folded fringed napkins with red borders had been stuck, like so many bouquets. The table was filled with guests and two shabby looking young waitresses handed the dishes with a kind of careless abandon which seemed to be in keeping with the place.

Many of the people were to take the stage next morning to a ranch which was conducted as a sanitarium. There were several trained nurses who had brought their patients along, and Billie turned her eyes away from one young man whose pale face and sunken chest made her ashamed of her own glowing health and sunburned cheeks.

Not even in Europe had Billie seen such an interesting and varied collection of people in one dining room as she now saw in this remote and obscure little western inn. There was a group of young Englishmen who had bought a great cattle ranch and were on their way to inspect it. There was a party of men traveling West by motor car. Two of them were famous millionaires, she heard it whispered. But most interesting of all, and the one on whom the Motor Maids cast many covert and curious glances, was a beautiful young woman who seemed to be traveling alone.

It so happened that she was placed next to Miss Campbell, who had gathered her charges under her wing at one end of the table, as an anxious little hen gathers her chicks, but by leaning over, they were able to see the strange girl's lovely face; her hazel eyes and red gold hair half hidden under a broad brimmed riding hat. She wore a khaki riding suit with divided skirts, and knotted about her neck was a beautiful burnt orange silk scarf that seemed to tone in with the yellow of her eyes and hair.

They wondered where her party was. Evidently she did not belong to any one at the table for she spoke to no person and scarcely lifted her eyes from her plate.

"Perhaps her mother is ill and she has had to come down alone," thought Elinor, who had conventional ideas rooted so deeply in her soul that nothing could stir them.

"May I ask you for the butter?" Miss Campbell had said in her most polite and perfect manner, and that had started the conversational ball a-rolling.

"With pleasure," answered the strange girl promptly, "although I am afraid you'll be disappointed with the bread. It's quite soggy."

"Perhaps you will allow me to offer you some of our zwieback," put in Miss Campbell, stretching forth her hand for the box. "We have it sent to us from time to time, because we simply cannot eat the bread out here."

"You are traveling West?" asked the girl.

Then Miss Campbell, always ready and willing to make friends, explained and introduced the Motor Maids.

There was something extremely appealing about the beautiful face of the stranger, and when presently she saw that she was attracting the notice of other people at the table, she blushed and pulled her hat well down over her face, and drew nearer to Miss Campbell's side. The girls liked her from the first. Then there was the mystery about her which added to her charm-the mystery of whom she was and where she was going. She had asked questions, but had volunteered nothing about herself.

After dinner they strolled into the hall of the hotel, which served as a sort of lobby, where they hoped to find letters awaiting them from the evening mail. The girl followed them timidly.

"I hope I'm not in the way or presuming too much," she said to Miss Campbell, as they proceeded into the hotel parlor to wait for the mail stage.

"Not at all, my dear," answered the kind soul. "If it is any pleasure to you, I'm sure it is a great pleasure to us. Are you alone?"

"Yes," hesitated the girl.

"You are taking a riding trip?" Miss Campbell looked at the riding suit.

"Yes."

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"Don't you think it just a little bit of a risk, my dear?"

"It's not a pleasure trip. I-I'm looking for a place to live."

"Oh, then you have no people?"

The girl hung her head. The Motor Maids were quite breathless with interest.

"My dear child," continued Miss Campbell, kindly, taking the young girl's hand, "it's none of my business, but I am an old woman, and I feel I must give advice to a beautiful young girl. Let me beg of you to think a long time before you do anything rash. Girls leave home thinking life will be easy and it so often turns out to be very, very hard."

"But I've been very unhappy," whispered the girl choking. "You can't understand-you can't know--"

Two tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, the sight of which was beyond the endurance of the Motor Maids. They gathered around her in a solicitous little group. They took her hands and pressed against her and patted her on the shoulder. And Miss Campbell kept saying:

"There, there, my dear, you mustn't cry. I am afraid I hurt you."

While the girl was choking back her tears and at the same time endeavoring to tell them in a broken voice that things at home had been unbearable, Billie and Elinor, who were facing the entrance, saw a very tall, black figure darken the doorway. Only for a moment he stood there, a great square shouldered, ungainly man who gave the impression of having been carved out of a block of wood, from the straight folds of his black Prince Albert coat to his square cut iron gray beard, which had once been black. The only live thing about him appeared to be his fiery dark eyes, which now took them all in with one sweeping, comprehensive glance.

The two girls almost shuddered and felt a certain relief when he promptly withdrew from the door.

"Won't you come to our rooms and tell us all about it, dear?" Miss Campbell was saying. "Perhaps we can help you and at least I can take you under my protection while we are here."

"You are under arrest, Miss. Don't make no noise and I won't make none," said a sharp shrill whispering voice behind them, and a long skinny hand was thrust into their midst, grasping the runaway by her arm.

"Let me go! How dare you?" she exclaimed, a flood of color rushing into her cheeks.

"Now, don't make no scene," said a shabby, unkempt looking individual. "You know who wants you as well as I do. He's there in the hall, and you know mighty well he's not goin' to let you go this time."

"Oh, save me! save me!" whispered the girl, hiding her face on Miss Campbell's shoulder.

The little lady drew herself up to her full height of five feet two inches and glared at the man.

"This young lady has placed herself under my protection, sir, and I refuse to have her annoyed. Will you please leave the room?"

The man was so overcome by Miss Campbell's grand air that he fell back a step in astonishment.

"Lady," he said, after a pause, "you won't make nothin' by interferin' in this here case. This young lady stole a horse out of her father's stable and run away from home, an' if you don't believe it, you can ask him--"

"It was my own horse," said the girl stamping her foot.

"Evelyn!" the voice which spoke was so deep and resonant it might have come up from some subterranean cavern. It made them all start, and when the name was repeated again, Miss Campbell fairly shivered at the sound.

"Evelyn!"

"Yes, father," answered the girl faintly.

"Come at once."

White as a sheet, with her hands clasped together as if to give herself courage, Evelyn turned to the great wooden tower of a man.

"I don't want to, father. I prefer to stay here with-with my friends."

The man took out a gold watch as big as a turnip and looked at it.

"I will give you three minutes to obey," he said.

The girls had a feeling Evelyn was going to her doom, and this was her last farewell. She threw her arms around Miss Campbell's neck and kissed her; then she kissed each of the Motor Maids. She might have been a devoted daughter and loving sister saying good-by for a long time.

"Good-by! Good-by!" she whispered, trying to stifle her sobs.

Curious people were beginning to drift into the parlor.

The next moment there was the sound of an automobile outside and Evelyn was whisked off in the darkness.

"Dear, dear, dear," ejaculated Miss Campbell "I am so upset! That exquisite young girl and that terrible giant creature of a father!"

"Her name was Evelyn, too. Wasn't it queer?" observed Nancy.

"Evelyn, Evelyn," they repeated.

"Evelyn Stone. Mr. Daniel Moore's Evelyn Stone."

In an instant they were all talking at once. It was Evelyn Stone. They recognized her now from the picture, although there was only really a faint resemblance. What picture could do justice to such coloring? The auburn hair, the golden brown eyes and the blush that crept in and out of her face with her changing emotions. But it was she, they were sure of it. She had the same smile-the "snapshot smile."

"If we had only recognized her sooner," cried Billie. "We might have delivered the letter. We might have saved her from that great dragon of a father. We might have done dozens of things."

They were deep in their thought when the stage drove up to the door with a great flourish and a man hastily dragged in several bags of mail.

Everybody gathered around the desk to wait for letters, and when the motor party had each received a package of mail, the first for many days, they hurried to their rooms to read the last news from home. Miss Campbell had half a dozen letters to engross her attention, and it was not until she had read the last word of every one that she opened a package covered with postmarks, showing it had been forwarded from place to place and had followed them over most of their route.

"My goodness gracious me," she cried out in a loud astonished voice as she drew out the contents of the packet.

The girls dropped their letters and ran into her room.

"What is it?" they demanded breathlessly.

"My morocco pocket book with the fifty dollars, the one I lost--"

Miss Campbell could say no more. She was quite overcome and on the verge of tears. She handed a note to Billie to read aloud.

Dear Madam: (it ran)

I picked this pocketbook up in my field, though how it happened to be near a broken box kite I cannot tell you. I am sending it to the address on the visiting card and would be glad if you would notify me that you have received it.

Yours truly,

James Erdman,

Dealer in Vegetables, Poultry and Eggs.

"He is a very honest man," exclaimed Miss Helen at last, when Billie had finished reading the note.

"And Peter Van Vechten--?" began Mary.

They all looked at each other silently.

"How glad I am he escaped," cried Miss Campbell. "Never, never will I accuse anyone on circumstantial evidence again."

"I am the one to apologize to him," said Billie. "I insulted him."

"All of us did, I think," put in Elinor.

"We called him a thief," added Nancy sadly.

"I was the one who cut the cords," at last Mary volunteered in a small voice.

How they pummeled her and laughed.

"And never told, you sly minx!" they cried.

But Billie meant some day to apologize openly to Peter Van Vechten.