“I hope so,” said Marjorie. “And by the way, have you seen anything of the people who are supposed to come to meet us?” The station-master walked across the platform, and gazed up the hill. Two Ford cars were making their way towards them; and a minute or two later, stopped at the platform. Their drivers--two young men of about eighteen and twenty--both wore the broad-brimmed hats and bright colored shirts and handkerchiefs similar to those which the girls had noticed on the cowboys they had seen from the train windows. Daisy shrunk back at the sight of them, for they did seem a little wild to the Eastern girl, accustomed to the conventional dress of city men; but as soon as they spoke, she was reassured by their voices. They were soft and cultivated, and could not have belonged to an uncouth person. “Are you the Girl Scouts?” asked the older of the two. “Yes,” replied Marjorie. “And we’re all here!” “Good! Pack yourselves in, then!” The girls proceeded to do as they were told, four of them climbing into each car. They began almost immediately to ask questions. “How big is the ranch?” inquired Ethel. “In acres, you mean? Why--” “No, I don’t care about the number of acres--that means nothing to a girl. I mean how many buildings and how many people?” “Oh, well, there is one big central cabin, and about eight small living cabins. And there are twelve dudes there now--” “Twelve _dudes?_” repeated Alice. “What in the world do dudes want to do on a ranch?” Bob--as the young man had informed them his name was--laughed unrestrainedly. “Why, you’re all dudes, or dudeens, on this ranch,” he said, “unless you’re horse-wranglers or cooks. Anybody who boards on a ranch is a dude.” The girls were relieved at the explanation; they had not particularly enjoyed the prospect of spending the summer with twelve dudes of the conventional type which one sees on the stage. They were going up a steep incline, with a sharp embankment on one side, and several of the girls felt rather nervous. Marjorie noticed this, and thought it would be better to refrain from asking questions, so that the driver might devote all his attention to his task. “Just see how barren the country seems,” she said, “no trees at all. Doesn’t it seem funny after being used to Pennsylvania and New York!” “Yes, we couldn’t find enough dry leaves to fill our bed-sacks if we were camping out all night,” said Lily. “Remember how we used to do on the canoe trip?” “And shall we ever sleep out all night?” asked Doris, as if she were not in love with the idea. “Yes, if you want to go on the pack-trips,” replied Bob, who had turned his car into a more level space now, and felt free to talk again. “And if we want to go to Yellowstone, do we have to sleep out for a week or so at a time?” continued Doris. “No, because they have regular camps and hotels there, and we don’t bother to take our own equipment,” he answered.