They were still fussing with the calf,--or it may have been another one,--and did not see her until she was close upon them.

When they did see her, she had them covered with her 38-caliber six-shooter, that she usually carried with her on the chance of getting a shot at a coyote or a fox or something like that.
The three stood up and stared at her, their jaws sagging a little at the suddenness of her appearance, and their eyes upon the gun.

Jean held it steady, and she had all the look of a person who knew exactly what she meant, and who meant business.

She eyed them curiously, noting the fact that they were strangers, and cowboys,--though of a type that she had never seen on the range.

She glanced sharply at the beaded, buckskin jacket of one of them, and the high, wide-brimmed sombrero of another.
"Well," she said at length, "turn your backs, you've had a good look at me.