It's a 'raising bee.' A raising bee!" she cried with growing enthusiasm.

"You remember them in Ontario.
It's a bee, sure enough.

Oh, hurry, let's go!" The bronchos seemed to catch her excitement, their weariness disappeared, and, pulling hard on the bit, they tore down the winding trail as if at the beginning rather than at the end of their hundred and fifty mile drive.
"What a size!" cried Mandy.
"And a cook house, too!" "And a verandah!" "And a shingled roof!" "And all the people! Where in the world can they have come from ?" "There's the Inspector, anyway," said Cameron.

"He is at the bottom of this, I'll bet you." "And Mr.Cochrane! And that young Englishman, Mr.Newsome!" "And old Thatcher!" "And Mrs.Cochrane, and Mr.Dent, and, oh, there's my friend Smith! You remember he helped me put out the fire." Soon they were at the gate of the corral where a group of men and women stood awaiting them.

Inspector Dickson was first: "Hello, Cameron! Got back, eh?
Welcome home, Mrs.Cameron," he said as he helped her to alight.
Smith stood at the bronchos' heads.
"Now, Inspector," said Cameron, holding him by hand and collar, "now what does this business mean ?" "Mean ?" cried the Inspector with a laugh.