Plum’s an old fossil,” growled Marshmallow.
“Why, Marshall!” his mother exclaimed. “Such disrespect. You should have come with us this morning. We explored the most fascinating ruins!”
“I’d like to make a fascinating ruin out of—I mean, out of those robbers,” Marshmallow said.
“Don’t let the cake take the edge off your appetites,” Mrs. Saylor called from the house. “Supper in half an hour—with hot cornbread!”
The young folks waved to her in assent and greeting.
“Come on, a council like us ought to be able to plan a campaign to outwit the crooks before supper,” Dave urged. “Who has any ideas?”
“They are tough customers,” Marshmallow cautioned. “And remember that they have the less desirable element of the country backing them up. There’s no use trying any force.”
“Do you suppose they suspect us?” Mrs. Mallow said.
“I don’t know,” Doris replied. “If that sleepy-headed registrar of deeds ever wakes up enough to tell Moon I was trying to locate the old claims there will be some sort of trouble, I expect.”
“Suppose we get Mr. Saylor to pick his strongest and most trusted men,” Marshmallow suggested, “and we will waylay the outfit along the road, tie ’em up and make them give up the deeds.”
“I thought you just said there was no use trying force,” Doris remarked.
“What about this for a plan?” Dave spoke up. “I’ll see if Pete can borrow Miss Bedelle’s plane and he and I can pretend to be barnstormers.
We’ll take the thieves for a ride and threaten to pitch them overboard unless they give up the papers.”
“I think you boys have been watching too many movie serials,” Doris laughed. “No, Dave. In the first place, they may not buy a ride, and in the second place they may not have the deeds with them and there you would be, flying around with the men afraid to land. And finally, Miss Bedelle might not lend her new airplane.”
“Gosh, it is a tough nut to crack,” Marshmallow admitted.
“I still think you ought to consult Mr. Plum,” Mrs. Mallow said. “He knows the country and the people.”
“All right. Where is he?” decided Doris, jumping to her feet.
“He has gone away for a few days on business,” Mrs. Mallow said. “He has to survey a new irrigation project.”
“We can’t wait for him,” Doris determined. “We must act quickly. I think the best thing of all is to get Miss Bedelle to help us. I’m sure she is as much opposed to the oil scheme as anyone.”
“I believe you are right,” Mrs. Mallow said. “Besides, we owe her a call, to thank her for the use of her plane.”
Further discussion was discontinued at that juncture by the announcement that supper was ready for them.
“We’ll drive over in the morning,” Doris said firmly, as the five trooped into the dining room.
Marshmallow’s eyes suddenly sparkled, and he snapped his fingers.
“Did you forget something?” Kitty asked. “Or remember something?”
“Just—er, just remembered that I wanted to bring some candy back from the village,” Marshmallow stammered. “Want to ride over with me after supper, Dave? My sweet tooth is aching.”
“Why, I guess so,” Dave replied, passing the fried ham to Doris.
Marshmallow ate hastily.
“Hurry up, Dave,” he kept urging his chum. “We want to get there before the stores close.”
“I never saw anybody get such a sudden yearning for candy,” Kitty said. “I wonder if there isn’t some pretty Mexican girl in the shop. Perhaps I had better go with you.”
“Oh, you’ll get your clean dress all dusty,” Marshmallow protested. “We’ll be back in a jiffy.”
The boys excused themselves while the three others lingered over the tea cups.
“I never saw Marshall refuse a second helping of dessert,” Mrs. Mallow said, her brows knit. “They are up to something, and it isn’t candy,”
Doris observed sagely. “Watch out for practical jokes. I think Marshmallow is getting a little bored with this life.”
“What, after being practically blown up by an oil well, and hobnobbing with cowboys?” Kitty exclaimed.
“I just have a hunch,” Doris said. “We’ll fool them by going to bed early. I’m about dead for sleep.”
“And I,” Kitty seconded.
It was scarcely nine o’clock when Doris, Kitty and Mrs. Mallow retired to their respective rooms. The boys had not yet returned.
Doris was awakened by an insistent rapping on the door from a dream in which she was galloping over the country pursuing an airplane on horseback.
“Who’s there?” she called.
“It is I, Mrs. Mallow,” came the reply. “Doris, I am so worried. Marshall and Dave have not yet returned and it is past eleven o’clock.”
Doris jumped from the bed and slipped a kimono over her pajamas as she switched on the light. Kitty sleepily demanded what the matter was, but Doris first opened the door to admit Mrs. Mallow.
She, too, was in dressing gown and slippers.
“I am worried about the boys,” she confessed. “I usually don’t worry about Marshall at all. I know he can take care of himself—back home in Plainfield, but in this rough frontier country I am ill at ease.”
“This is Saturday, isn’t it?” Doris asked. “There is nothing to worry about. They have gone to the weekly movie show. Even Mr. and Mrs. Saylor drove to town, and most of the ranch hands rode in.”
“That must be it,” Mrs. Mallow sighed. “You are such a comfort, Doris! I’ll go back to bed now, but I know I shan’t sleep until they are back.” Kitty stretched her graceful arms and yawned unabashed.
“If you can’t sleep, Mrs. Mallow, why not sit up with us a while?” she suggested. “I’ve had a beauty nap, and am all rested.”
“Oh, no,” Mrs. Mallow protested. “You girls get all the sleep you can. Some day you will realize how a mother worries over little nothings.” She rose to go, and had just put her hand on the knob of the door when the sound of a motor was heard in the yard.
“There they are now!” Doris exclaimed.
“It may be the Saylors returning,” Mrs. Mallow said. “I’ll just wait and see.”
The three waited in silence.
