The Best Western Novels of William MacLeod Raine. William MacLeod Raine
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faint. I should think you might make a snap-shot judgment that breakfast wouldn’t hurt me.”
He jumped up contritely. “That’s right. What a goat I am!”
His long, clean stride carried him over the distance that separated him from his bronco. Out of the saddle-bags he drew some sandwiches wrapped in a newspaper.
“Here, Miss Margaret! You begin on these. I’ll have coffee ready in two shakes of a cow’s tail. And what do you say to bacon?”
He understood her to remark from the depths of a sandwich that she said “Amen!” to it, and that she would take everything he had and as soon as he could get it ready. She was as good as her word. He found no cause to complain of her appetite. Bacon and sandwiches and coffee were all consumed in quantities reasonable for a famished girl who had been tramping actively for a day and a night, and, since she was a child of impulse, she turned more friendly eyes on him who had appeased her appetite.
“I suppose you are a cowboy like everybody else in this country?” she ventured amiably after her hunger had become less sharp.
“No, I belong to the government reclamation service.”
“Oh!” She had a vague idea she had heard of it before. “Who is it you reclaim? Indians, I suppose.”
“We reclaim young ladies when we find them wandering about the desert,” he smiled.
“Is that what the government pays you for?”
“Not entirely. Part of the time I examine irrigation projects and report on their feasibility. I have been known to build dams and bore tunnels.”
“And what of the young ladies you reclaim? Do you bore them?” she asked saucily.
“I understand they have hitherto always found me very entertaining,” he claimed boldly, his smiling eyes on her.
“Indeed!”
“But young ladies are peculiar. Sometimes we think we’re entertaining them when we ain’t.”
“I’m sure you are right.”
“And other times they’re interested when they pretend they’re not.”
“It must be comforting to your vanity to think that,” she said coldly. For his words had recalled similar ones spoken by him twenty-four hours earlier, which in turn had recalled his unpardonable sin.
The lieutenant of rangers appeared over the hill and descended into the draw. Miss Kinney went to meet him.
“He got away?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. I lost him in some of these hollows, or rather I never found him. I’m going to take my hawss and swing round in a circle.”
“What are you going to do with me?” she smiled.
“I been thinking that the best thing would be for you to go to the Mal Pais mines with Mr. Neill.”
“Who is Mr. Neill?”
“The gentleman over there by the fire.”
“Must I go with him? I should feel safer in your company, lieutenant.”
“You’ll be safe enough in his, Miss Kinney.”
“You know me then?” she asked.
“I’ve seen you at Fort Lincoln. You were pointed out to me once as a new teacher.”
“But I don’t want to go to the Mal Pais mines. I want to go to Fort Lincoln. As to this gentleman, I have no claims on him and shall not trouble him to burden himself with me.”
Steve laughed. “I don’t reckon he would think, it a terrible burden, ma’am. And about the Mal Pais—this is how it is. Fort Lincoln is all of sixty miles from here as the crow flies. The mines are about seventeen. My notion was you could get there and take the stage to-morrow to your town.”
“What shall I do for a horse?”
“I expect Mr. Neill will let you ride his. He can walk beside the hawss.”
“That won’t do at all. Why should I put him to that inconvenience? I’ll walk myself.”
The ranger flashed his friendly smile at her. He had an instinct that served him with women. “Any way that suits you and him suits me. I’m right sorry that I’ve got to leave you and take out after that hound Struve, but you may take my word for it that this gentleman will look after you all right and bring you safe to the Mal Pais.”
“He is a stranger to me. I’ve only met him once and on that occasion not pleasantly. I don’t like to put myself under an obligation to him. But of course if I must I must.”
“That’s the right sensible way to look at it. In this little old world we got to do a heap we don’t want to do. For instance, I’d rather see you to the Mal Pais than hike over the hills after this fellow,” he concluded gallantly.
Neill, who had been packing the coffee-pot and the frying-pan, now sauntered forward with his horse.
“Well, what’s the program?” he wanted to know.
“It’s you and Miss Kinney for the Mal Pais, me for the trail. I ain’t very likely to find Mr. Struve, but you can’t always sometimes tell. Anyhow, I’m going to take a shot at it,” the ranger answered.
“And at him?” his friend suggested.
“Oh, I reckon not. He may be a sure-enough wolf, but I expect this ain’t his day to howl.”
Steve whistled to his pony, swung to the saddle when it trotted up, and waved his hat in farewell.
His “Adios!” drifted back to them from the crown of the hill just before he disappeared over its edge.
Chapter VI.
Somebody’s Acting Mighty Foolish
Larry Neill watched him vanish and then turned smiling to Miss Kinney.
“All aboard for the Mal Pais,” he sang out cheerfully.
Too cheerfully perhaps. His assurance that all was well between them chilled her manner. He might forgive himself easily if he was that sort of man; she would at least show him she was no party, to it. He had treated her outrageously, had manhandled her with deliberate intent to insult. She would show him no one alive could treat her so and calmly assume to her that it was all right.
Her cool eyes examined the horse, and him.
“I don’t quite see how you expect to arrange it, Mr. Neill. That is your name, isn’t it?” she added indifferently.
“That’s my name—Larry Neill. Easiest thing in the world to arrange. We ride pillion if it suits you; if not, I’ll walk.”
“Neither plan suits me,” she announced curtly, her gaze on the far-away hills.
He glanced at her in quick surprise, then made the mistake of letting himself smile at her frosty aloofness instead of being crestfallen by it. She happened to look round and catch that smile before he could extinguish it. Her petulance hardened instantly to a resolution.
“I don’t quite know what we’re going to do about it—unless you walk,” he proposed, amused at the absurdity of his suggestion.
“That’s just what I’m going to do,” she retorted promptly.
“What!” He wheeled on her with an astonished smile on his face.
This served merely to irritate her.
“I said I was going to walk.”
“Walk seventeen