“You can. I’ll drive you over there any time you say.”

Polly’s face hardened. “I won’t bother you,” she said. “I don’t know how long I’ll stay here. I want to telegraph Bob.”

“I told Johnson to wire him from Conejo,” said Scott, a bit coolly on his side. “He may bring the return message back with him to-night.”

Polly felt suddenly ashamed of herself. She rose and held out her hand.

“That was awfully thoughtful of you, Mr. Scott,” she said. “I’m ever and ever so much obliged to you, both for that and for last night. I suppose if it hadn’t been for you Señor Pachuca might have been sending pieces of my fingers to Bob for a ransom.”

Scott laughed but he took the hand awkwardly.

“I don’t think Pachuca would do anything quite as raw as that—especially with a lady,” he said. “But I’m glad I went just the same. I don’t take chances with these chaps. Shall we walk down to dinner? Mrs. Van gets pretty peeved if we’re late to meals.”

80

CHAPTER VI

LOCAL ACTIVITIES

Johnson did not bring a return message from Chicago.

“Family ain’t got its breath yet, I reckon,” he said, as he and Scott discussed the matter. “She looks to me like the sort of youngster who could keep a family pretty well stirred up,” he added, candidly. “Girls have changed sence you and me was young, Scotty.”

“You’ve said it,” was the terse reply.

“If you can believe what these magazine fellers write,” went on the engineer, pensively, “the girl of to-day is a sort of mixture of bronc, ostrich, and rattlesnake thrown in. Smokes, drinks—say, Scotty, I wonder do they chew?”

“Search me,” responded Scott. “I don’t go into society much these days. I reckon, though, you’ve got to take these writing chaps with a grain of salt. There’s probably a few plain, ordinary girls left.”

“There’s plenty of plain ones, if the newspapers ain’t lyin’,” said Johnson, opening his home paper at the society page and revealing three emaciated damsels, clad in extremely short skirts, and with huge bird cages over their ears. “Not that Miss Polly’s like them,” he added, generously. “She’s a looker 

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