Uncle Cliff leaped to the bottom step,--the train was still only crawling,--and with one hand on the rail leaned out and peered after Alec. Blue Bonnet gave a nervous clutch at his sleeve. What he saw evidently reassured Mr. Ashe, for suddenly he straightened up and held out both arms. A second later a brown furry object came hurtling through the air and was caught ignominiously by the tail. Quick as a flash Uncle Cliff tossed the indignant Solomon to Blue Bonnet, and bent down to lend a helping hand to Alec. That young gentleman scrambled up with more haste than elegance, just as the train ceased to crawl and settled down to the real business of travelling. "I'll never forget this, Alec Trent, as long as I live,--I think you deserve a Carnegie medal!" Blue Bonnet cried fervently. "I'd never get over it if Solomon should be lost." "He wouldn't have been--lost, exactly," returned Alec in an odd tone. "Why, what do you mean? Where did you find him?" Blue Bonnet demanded. And Alec, bursting into a laugh in spite of his awful news, returned: "I found him just where that Blake boy left him--tied on to the end of the car!" CHAPTER II IN THE BLUE BONNET COUNTRY "IF one of you speaks aloud in the next five minutes," declared Blue Bonnet earnestly, "I'll never forgive you." No one being inclined to risk Blue Bonnet's undying enmity, there was complete silence for the space of time imposed. They were rolling along the smooth white road between the railway station and the ranch, Grandmother Clyde and the girls in a buckboard drawn by sturdy little mustangs, while Alec, Uncle Joe and Uncle Cliff, who had stayed behind to look after the luggage, were following on horseback. Blue Bonnet sat tense and still, her hands clasped in her lap, the color coming and going in her face in rapid waves of pink and white; her eyes very shiny, her lips quivering. This home-coming was having an effect she had not dreamed of. Every familiar object, every turn of the road that brought her nearer the beloved ranch, gave her a new and delicious thrill. As they neared the modern wire fence two dusky little greaser piccaninnies rose out of the chaparral, hurled themselves on the big gate and held it open, standing like sentinels, bursting with importance, as the buckboard rolled through. "They're Pancho's twins!" cried Blue Bonnet. "Stop, Miguel, while I give them something." Hurriedly seizing a half-eaten box of candy from Amanda's surprised hands, Blue Bonnet leaned down and tossed it to the grinning youngsters. "_Muchas gracias_, Senorita!" they cried in a duet, their black eyes wide with joy. "Bless the babies!" exclaimed Kitty, "--did you hear what they called you?" Blue Bonnet laughed. "I'm never called anything else here. They meant 'Many thanks, Ma'am.' You will be 'Senorita' too,--better get used to it." "Oh, I shall love it," cried Kitty. "It sounds like a title--'my lady' or 'your grace' or something grand."