“How are yer, miss? Is this yere the ranch where Brad Buckhart can be found?”
Maggie was tempted to close the door in the face of that bewhiskered, sunburned, booted, and spurred man. From his Stetson hat to his high-heeled boots he looked like the burlesque Western desperado seen on the stage. Around his waist he wore a loose belt which supported a pistol holster, the latter, however, being empty.
“Mr. Buckhart—he—rooms here,” faltered Maggie, “but you see, sir—he—ain’t to home now.”
“Waal, that’s all right, my gal,” said the fierce-looking man, “I’ll just walk in and wait for him. You see I’m from his father’s ranch, the Bar Z, and the old man axed me to look up Brad while I was on yere. You can show me his room, little gal. I’ll squat thar.”
Shiveringly Maggie led the way to Buckhart’s room, into which the visitor strode with an air of perfect self-assurance.
“I—I’m afraid you’ll have to wait an awful long time, sir,” said the girl. “I understand Mr. Buckhart he has gone away somewhere, sir.”
“I dunno, sir. I dunno’s anybody knows, sir.”
Dick Merriwell looked in from the adjoining room. He had the singular letter in his hand, for he was still puzzling over it.
“Do you want to see Buckhart, sir?” he inquired.
“I sure do,” answered the visitor. “Mebbe you can tell me when he’ll git back. My name is Bill Bugle, and I’m a cow-puncher from the Bar Z. You see the boy’s old man axed me would I drop round and see him and bring back a report as to how he was gittin’ along here. Who are you?”
“Put her thar!” shouted Bugle, extending his hand. “Why, you’re Brad’s kid pard. You’re the youngster he’s writ so much about to his old man. I’m certain powerful glad to meet up with you.”
Maggie retreated, leaving them together, and in a very short time Dick and the visitor became surprisingly friendly. The door into the hall was closed, and, listening from the stairs some minutes later, Miss Swazey heard Dick and Bugle laughing in the most friendly manner. They seemed to be enjoying something like a joke.
A little later Dick gave out the contents of the letter he had received. When its genuineness was doubted he asserted that the writing looked like that of Buckhart, and he was confident the Texan would show up in Providence according to his promise.