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That's all." As Collie rode away through the morning sunshine, Williams loafed across the corral, roped and saddled a white-eyed pinto, and, spurring up a narrow cañon west of the ranch buildings, disappeared round a turn of the shady trail. As the foreman rode, he alternately talked to the pony and himself. "Tramp, eh?" he said, addressing the pony. "What do you say, Sarko? Nothin', eh?
Good-bye, and tell Billy he must come over and see us right away." "You'll drive carefully?" queried Aunt Eleanor again. "Jest like I was goin' to get pinched," said Overland, bowing. As Collie rode down the last pitch, leading the restive Sarko, Dick Tenlow stepped from the brush. "'Morning, Collie. Out for a little pasear?" "Shouldn't wonder, Dick." "Horses are lookin' good.
"Hold on there!" cried Collie, jumping forward. "Collie, I'll talk with him." "Take my horse, Miss Louise," said Collie, flushing. "No, indeed. I'll ride Sarko." "I'll get him," said Collie. "No. Mr. Tenlow will get him, I am sure." "A woman can make any deal look smooth if she is interested," said Tenlow, turning toward the brush. He came out leading the pony. "Thank you.
Apache snorted and circled as the bushes crashed and crackled. A few minutes later, Tenlow strode from the brush leading his pony. He wiped the blood and sweat from his face and spat viciously. Louise, riding homeward slowly, heard a horse coming behind her. She reined Sarko and waited. Collie saw no way out of it, so he rode up, grinning from a bruised and battered face. "Why, Collie!"
He brightened, however, as a thought inspired him. "And the leetle hoss, is he doin' well?" "That Sarko I do not like that he should keeck you!" flamed Anita, and Sundown's cup of happiness was full to overflowing. Quite unconsciously he was leading his horse toward the gate and quite unconsciously Anita was walking beside him. Forgotten was the Loring ranch, the Concho, his own homestead.
You're on the wrong trail. What do you think I am?" "Same as I always thought." "Then you want to change your opinion of me," said Collie, relinquishing the tie-rope. "I ain't breaking the law, but you are going to hear more about this." "I'll risk that. You can ride right along, pronto." "And you keep Sarko? I guess not! I'll stick."
Same as me.... Overland Red's kid pal, eh? Huh! I knowed Jack Summers, Red Jack Summers, down in Sonora in '83. Mexico was some open country then. Jack was a white pardner, too. Went to the bad, account of that Chola girl that he was courtin' goin' wrong.... Funny how the boss come to pick up that kid. Thinks there's somethin' in him. O' course they is. But what? Eh, Sarko, what?
And, by gollies, when I read that there gun-fight down in Texas, I ketched myself feelin' along my hip, like I was packin' a gun. And when I read about that cowboy's hoss, the one with the sarko eye and the white legs, why, I ketched myself feelin' for my ole bandanna to blow my nose. An' I seen dead hosses a-plenty. But you needn't to say nothin' about that in the letter.
Why should you be, though. Because you were fighting?" "No, Miss Louise. Because I got licked." Louise mounted Sarko and rode beside Collie silently. Presently she touched his arm. "But did you?" she asked, her eyes grave and her tone conveying a subtle question above the mere letter. "No! By thunder!" he exclaimed. "Not in a hundred years!" "Well, get some raw meat from the cook.
Her pensiveness had departed. Her cheeks were flushed. "Oh, Collie! Saddle Boyar " she began, but Overland coughed disapprovingly. He did not wish Tenlow and Saunders to suspect that the led horse was for Louise. "Or no. Saddle Sarko," said Louise, at once aware of Overland's plan. "And have him at the foot of the hill for me as soon as you can." "Yes, Miss Louise."