The crowd of men looked sheepish and hurriedly explained the joke, looking over in the direction of the two strangers. As their welcome was considered a huge joke the men laughed loudly. Mr. Brewster (for it was the rancher) frowned when he saw the pale girls almost fainting from fear. Then he turned to the ringleader in the plot: "Say, Bill! Was that pesky train from Denver on time--or too soon, for a change?" asked Mr. Brewster, consulting his watch. "It war ten minits too airly, 'cause Hank Janssen, th' ingineer, 's got a christenin' down to his home to-night," explained Bill. "Then those two girls are my company," groaned the rancher, causing a scramble at his words. The cow-punchers whipped off their hats to salute and the miners shuffled behind the daring cow-boys, the better to hide their faces from the "Boss." Mr. Brewster hurried over to reassure the girls that the whole fight had been staged to entertain them. He explained the cause of his not being on hand to meet them, and waving his hand for the cow-boys, he called: "Get busy, boys! Shake those trunks into the wagon." While the men eagerly lent shoulders and muscles to the task expected of them, the three principals in this group made personal notes of each other, albeit not a word was said. "Ah never did see such ridiculous styles as this!" thought Sam Brewster, looking the girls over from top to toe. "This rough man Mr. Brewster! Why, he's a common farmer!" thought Barbara, disdainfully. "I bet Polly's father's a heap of fun!" thought Eleanor. When Mr. Brewster realized there were _seven_ great trunks belonging to two girls, he groaned within himself, wondering what in the world could be found to fill so many! The men were handed cigars, and as they doffed their hats to say "Thank you-all" they backed away to permit the Boss to help the girls up the high wagon-side. Barbara looked at the rough stained hands and said insultingly: "No, thank you!" "Here--let me jump up and pull you in," laughed Eleanor, uncomfortably, seeing that her sister had offended their host. Sam Brewster turned to give his horses a pail of water while the two girls attempted to climb up. But the small steel foot-rest was too high to be reached without a boost from below, so they had to climb, hand over hand, up the great wheel with its spokes clogged with the heavy mud from the trails. When they were finally seated, both girls looked at each other. Fresh natty traveling suits were streaked by the mud, and their gloves--soft chamois-skins--could now be thrown away. Even their faces had been smeared with mud when they slipped and had to clutch at any possible rescue. Naturally, they were not in too amiable a frame of mind for what awaited them at the end of the trip. The high spring-seat was the only one, so Barbara had to sit there. "I simply cannot hold on to this sky-scraper!" complained she testily. "It's the only one, Bob, so you will _have_ to!" replied Eleanor.