"I wondered why you was
so dead anxious t' have me take him."
The eyes of Beatrice snapped sparks at him, but her manner was demure,
not to say meek. "He belongs to my brother," she explained, "and my
brother has dozens of good saddle-horses. Mr. Cameron's horse is a pet.
It's different when a horse follows you all over the place and fairly
talks to you. He'll shake hands, and--"
"Uh-huh, I see the point, I guess. What d'yuh say, kid?"
Keith might seem boyish, but he did not enjoy being addressed as "kid."
He was twenty-eight years old, whether he looked it or not.
"I say this: If you take my horse, I'll kill you. I'll have twenty-five
cow-punchers camping on your trail before sundown. If you take this
girl's horse, I'll do the same."
The man shut his lips in a thin line.
"No, he won't!" cried Beatrice, leaning forward. "Don't mind a thing he
says! You can't expect a man to keep his temper with his hands up in the
air like that. You take Rex, and I'll promise for Mr. Cameron "
"Trix--Miss Lansell!"--sternly.
"I promise you he won't do a thing," she went on firmly. "He--he isn't
half as fierce, really, as--as he looks."
Keith's face got red.
The man laughed a little. Evidently the situation amused him, whether
the others could see the humor of it or not. "So I'm to have your
cayuse, eh?"
Keith saw two big tears tipping over her lower lids, and gritted his
teeth.
Pages:
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136