Purposely he timed his arrival to follow the dinner hour--dinner was at noon in the ranch country--and was mildly lectured by Aunt Jane for not arriving earlier. Uncle Frank was at the lower end of the ranch, superintending the irrigating. Little Jim was on the veranda, needlessly cleaning his new rifle, preparatory to a rabbit hunt that afternoon. Bartley was at once invited to participate in the hunt, and he could think of no reason to decline. Dorothy, however, was not at the ranch. Little Jim scrubbed his rifle with an oily rag, and scowled. "Got both hosses saddled, and lots of ca'tridges--and Dorry ain't here yet! She promised to be here right after dinner." "Was Miss Dorry going with you?" Jimmy nodded. "You bet! She's goin' to take my old twenty-two. It's only a single-shot," added Jimmy scornfully. "But it's good enough for a girl." "Isn't it early to hunt rabbits?" queried Bartley. "Sure! But we got to get there, clear over to the flats. If Dorry don't come as soon as I get this gun cleaned, I'm goin' anyhow." But Dorothy appeared before Jimmy could carry out his threat of leaving without her. Jimmy, mounted on his pony, fretted to be gone, while Dorothy chatted a minute or so with Aunt Jane and Bartley. Finally they rode off, with Jimmy in the lead, explaining that there would be no rabbits on the flat until at least five o'clock, and in the meantime they would ride over to the spring and pretend they were starving. That is, Dorothy and Bartley were to pretend they were starving, while Jimmy scouted for meat and incidentally shot a couple of Indians and returned with a noble buck deer hanging across the saddle. It was hot and they rode slowly. Far ahead, in the dim southern distances, lay the hills that walled the San Andreas Valley from the desert. Dorothy noticed that Bartley gazed intently at those hills. "Cheyenne?" she queried, smiling. "I beg your pardon. I was dreaming. Yes, I was thinking of him, and--" Bartley gestured toward Little Jim. "Then you know?" "Cheyenne told me, night before last, in San Andreas." "Of course, Jimmy is far better off right where he is," asserted Dorothy, although Bartley had said nothing. "I don't think Cheyenne will ever settle down. At least, not so long as that man Sears is alive. Of course, if anything happens to Sears--" Dorothy was interrupted by Little Jim, who turned in the saddle to address her. "Say, Dorry, if you keep on talkin' out loud, the Injuns is like to jump us! Scoutin' parties don't keep talkin' when they're on the trail." "Don't be silly, Jimmy," laughed Dorothy. "Well, they _used_ to be Injuns in these hills, once." "We'll behave," said Bartley. "But can't we ride toward the foothills and get in the shade?" "You just follow me," said Little Jim. "I know this country."