THE ARRIVAL
3
quite. Pearsall realized with sure, swift sympathy, that the child was used to being forgotten; he put up his arms and lifted down little Hilda Van Brunt. They were all on the ground then, their luggage dumped beside them, and the stage jingled away. “Is there any hotel?” Miss Valeria demanded. “We ought to have some rest—and dinner.” “It’ll be all right,” the ranch manager said quickly. “I’ve fixed for you. The ambulance is ready, and—” “Ambulance!” Miss Valeria interrupted. “Is any¬ body hurt or—or sick—or anything like that? We certainly can’t—” “An ambulance is the regular family vehicle on all the ranches around here, ma’am,” Pearsall explained. “You’ll find it mighty comfortable traveling. I aim to have you get in now and drive out a piece to a good camping place. We’ll have our supper there. There’s plenty good bedding. And we’ll get a soon start in the morning. No—well, nothing that you folks would call a hotel, here. You’ll find it better that way.” The baby on Van Brunt’s shoulder roused without a whimper, opened big, serious blue eyes and gazed about him. This gaze lit upon the little girl, fastened there, and slowly grew into a smile. His sister pressed in close to her father’s side and reached up to pat the baby, then thrust her hand into Van Brunt’s free one, urging: “Oh, yes, papa—please let’s go and have a picnic. It’ll be so beautiful!” And Van Brunt said: “Certainly, Pearsall. We’re in your hands now.” The ranch boss got his passengers into the ambu¬ lance, Miss Van Brunt and her nephew with the baby on the back seat, Hilda perched beside him on the front. As he gathered up his lines he smiled down
