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McLean, and returning next day drew from his pocket something which he put on Miss Ailie's finger, and then she had the idea of taking off her left glove in church, which would have announced her engagement as loudly as though Mr. Dishart had included it in his pulpit intimations.
So we turned our faces down the grass-topped mountains towards Galena Creek. Once, far through an open gap away below us, we sighted the cabin with the help of our field-glasses. "Pity we can't make out Hank sleepin' in that brush," said McLean. "He has probably gone into the cabin by now," said I. "Not him! He prefers the brush all day when he's that drunk, you bet!" "Afraid of her?"
"Freckles, your Angel has a spice of the devil in her, but she's superb! You needn't spend any time questioning or bewailing anything she does. Just worship blindly, my boy. By heaven! she's sense, courage, and beauty for half a dozen girls," said McLean. "It's altogether right you are, sir," affirmed Freckles heartily. Presently he added, "There's no question but the series is over now."
And in McLean's other ear a distraught Thatcher was murmuring "That officer chap is Hamdi Bey a General of the Guards. You know, Mr. McLean, this really is you know, it is " Hamdi Bey ... Hamdi Bey, two days after his distressing loss, befriending this sheik and trying to involve Jack Ryder in disgrace. Mystifying. Mystifying and disquieting yes, disquieting, in the face of Jack's alarm.
Not some other girl some co-wife or something?" And as McLean bewilderedly muttered that he was sure, Ryder began to laugh again. To laugh jubilantly, joyously, triumphantly. "He's given her up he's got a saving explanation to thrust in the world's face! Oh, blessed Allah, Veiler of all that should be veiled! The man's through. He's had enough. He isn't going to try to "
"My wife is right," he muttered to himself; "she always is, in such things at least," for with masculine perversity he could not vouchsafe a sweeping verdict as to a woman's infallibility. "There is small chance here for Holmes," he mentally added. "I only wish young McLean were out of his troubles."
Cars were shifted, heavily bumping and parting. "Hello, Lin!" A face was looking from the window of the caboose. "Hello!" responded Mr. McLean, perceiving above his head Honey Wiggin, a good friend of his. They had not met for three years. "They claimed you got killed somewheres. I was sorry to hear it." Honey offered his condolence quite sincerely.
Jessamine said. "But we must make out this way till we have another way." She smiled on Lin, and Billy's face darkened. "Do you know," she pursued to me, "with all those chickens Mr. McLean tells me about, never a one has he thought to bring here." "Livin' or dead do you want 'em?" inquired Lin. "Oh, I'll not bother you. Mr. Donohoe says he will " "Texas? Chickens? Him?
It alarmed him to find that the mere unexpected touch of a familiar garment could rouse such a storm in him. It made him pause. He put down the coat and pulled himself up sharply. McLean was right; he was only human stuff, very poor human stuff. He put the little coat down hastily, only to lift it again gently to his lips. "Good-night, dear," he whispered. "Goodnight, Harmony."
But "No," said he, "I hit upon a better notion to-day in the Den," and to explain this notion he produced from his pocket a large, vulgar bottle, which shocked Miss Ailie, and indeed that bottle had not passed through the streets uncommented on. Mr. McLean having observed this bottle afloat on the Silent Pool, had fished it out with his stick, and its contents set him chuckling.
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