"Saucy as ever, Ben. But we're positively starved. Hello, Song!" she
called to the Chinese cook, who was standing on the veranda grinning
like a heathen idol, "got anything good to eat?"

"Yes, missee, plenty good glub. Mebbeso you likee some fried ham and
eggs?" said Song, shaking hands with himself and bowing low.

"Ham and eggs! No! Positively, no! I'll be turning into a ham and egg if
I get any more of it. That's all the cook at the ranch knows how to do.
Anything else?"

"Yes, missee. Plenty paltlidge, what Misto Ted shootee lesterday. I
cookee you some plenty quick."

"All right, Song, cook us some partridges."

The boys stood around in a group of admiring servitors waiting to carry
Stella's hand bag and gun and saddle and other things with which she was
burdened.

Suddenly she looked toward the porch.

"Who's that?" she asked breathlessly, pointing to a little girl who
stood shyly beside a post looking on.

"Why, that's Lilian," said Ted. "I didn't know you were up yet," he
called to the little girl. "Come here, dear, and see Stella. You haven't
forgotten Stella, have you?"