"
"Yes, I think we shall. You'll tell me all about it, if I want to
know." Beatrice adopted her coaxing tone, which never had failed her.
"Oh, no!" Keith laughed a little. "A girl can't always have her own way
just because she wants it, even if she--"
"I've got a fish, Mr. Cam'ron!" Dorman squealed, and Keith was obliged
to devote another five minutes to diplomacy.
"I think you have fished long enough, honey," Beatrice told Dorman
decidedly. "It's nearly dinner time, and Looey Sam won't have time to
fry your fish if you don't hurry home. Shall I tell Dick you wished to
see him, Mr. Cameron?"
"It's nothing important, so I won't trouble you," Keith replied, in a
tone that matched hers for cool courtesy. "I'll see him to-morrow,
probably." He helped Dorman reel in his line, cut a willow-wand and
strung the three fish upon it by the gills, washed his hands leisurely
in the creek, and dried them on his handkerchief, just as if nothing
bothered him in the slightest degree. Then he went over and smoothed
Redcloud's mane and pulled a wisp of forelock from under the brow-band,
and commanded him to shake hands, which the horse did promptly.
"I want to shake hands wis your pony, too," Dorman cried, and dropped
pole and fish heedlessly into the grass.
"All right, kid."
Dorman went up gravely and clasped Redcloud's raised fetlock solemnly,
while the tall cow-puncher smiled down at him.
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