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I know a guy in Kalispell, and I can panhandle the sordid necessary chuck while I wait for you. Little you know, my cockerel, how facile a brain your 'bus so lightly bears. When I've cashed in on the mine, I'll take my rightful place among the motored gentry.
But, on the other hand, there was Kalispell and the round-up. It would make a difference of just one day. True, we could have gone to the round-up on the train. But, for two reasons, this was out of the question. First, it would not make a good story. Second, we had nothing but riding-clothes, and ours were only good to ride in and not at all to walk about in.
But nothing happened; no sheriff in a buckboard drove up with a shotgun across his knees. The Government, or its representative in Glacier Park, was contenting itself with foaming at the mouth. We rode on through the sunlight, and sang as we rode. Kalispell is a flourishing and attractive town of northwestern Montana. It is notable for many other things besides its annual round-up.
In the morning he did see her putting off on the lake, in a motor-boat with Jeff and Mr. Barmberry. He saw the boat return, saw Jeff get into the car which had brought him from Kalispell, saw the farewell, the long handclasp, the stoop of Jeff's head, and Claire's quick step backward before Jeff could kiss her. But Claire waved to Jeff long after his car had started.
And I'll sure reward you for your generosity in taking me to Blewett, all the long, long, languid, languorous way " "Too bad I got to stop couple of days at Spokane." "Well, then you shall have the pleasure of taking me that far." "And about a week in Kalispell!" "'Twill discommode me, but 'pon honor, I like your honest simple face, and I won't desert you. Besides!
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