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Helen was laughing, and crying, too, but laughing mostly. Las Vegas Carmichael was a sight for the gods to behold. Bo's kiss had unclamped what had bound him. The sudden truth, undeniable, insupportable, glorious, made him a madman. "Bluff she called me ride Blue-Bo saf'ternoon!" he raved, reaching wildly for Helen. "Mrs. Tom Carmichael before dinner preacher presentable bridegroom!... Aw!
"Tom, has my new mustang a name?" asked Bo, turning to the cowboy. "Shore." "What then?" "Wal, I named him Blue-Bo," answered Las Vegas, with a smile. "Blue-Boy?" "Nope. He's named after you. An' I chased him, roped him, broke him all myself." "Very well. Blue-Bo he is, then.... And he's a wonderful darling horse. Oh, Nell, just look at him.... Tom, I can't thank you enough."
"It IS a bluff and I CALL you!" declared Bo, ringingly. Las Vegas suddenly awoke to consequences. He essayed to speak, but she was so wonderful then, so white and blazing-eyed, that he was stricken mute. "I'll ride Blue-Bo this afternoon," deliberately stated the girl. Las Vegas had wit enough to grasp her meaning, and he seemed about to collapse. "Very well, you can make me Mrs.
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