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A little man Niven, rancher and horseman, with a good education and a knowledge of men. He rather fits the old saying about licking his weight in wild cats wild cats being nearer his size than lions or tigers. Eight months before he had not known any more about war than thousands of other Canadians of his type, except that soldiers carried rifles over their shoulders and kept step.
He was so overwhelmingly, boyishly happy that she had to be happy with him in making believe that he was about to be a real rancher. But he should not have the sport all on his side. He must not think that she accepted this latest departure of his imagination incarnated by his Thespian gift in anything but his own spirit. "You plowing! You spraying trees for the scale! You digging up weeds!
He was a small rancher, but it was not until the impatient horse plunged that Alton recognized the other, who moved aside, as the man he had thrown into the river. The rancher saw the glance that passed between them. "Hallo!" he said. "Then you two had trouble when you split? Now, Damer was telling me he'd got kind of tired of saw milling." Alton laughed. "That's quite likely," he said.
"So, I say, if you claim these rustlers will last, you're pretending lack of nerve just to help the popular idea along. For they can't last. "Morton, I don't want to be a hard-riding cowboy all my days. Do you think I'd let fear of a gang of rustlers stop me from going in business with a rancher? Nit!
But their girl ought never to dream of such foibles she must remain at home and learn to sew and cook and do all the household chores! If any sort of a decent rancher comes along who wants to marry, then I must thank him and tie myself down to take care of his socks and buttons, and rear a fine family! "No, no, NO! I tell you I just won't do it!"
The matter must be handled delicately, lest Wandle take alarm. When he had smoked out his pipe, Prescott could no longer restrain his impatience. He hurried toward the stable. The moonlight fell on the front of the building and the door was open; but Prescott stopped with a start, for all was dark inside and there was no sign of the vehicle in which the rancher had driven home.
"Come into my room," said Anderson. She followed him there, and as he closed the door she answered his questioning look by running into his arms and hiding her face. "Wal, I'll be dog-goned!" the rancher ejaculated, with emotion. He held her and patted her shoulder with his big hand. "Tell me, Lenore." "There's little to tell," she replied, softly.
He fancied he understood the persistence. There was a moment's silence. Then the stick tapped, and the rancher passed out under the curious gaze of his men. Tresler, too, looked after him. Nor was there any doubt of his feelings now. He knew that his presence in the house during Marbolt's murderous assault on Jake was unsuspected.
"Look over the stock of goods that's within your means. Bargains. Odds and Ends." "What could I do?" "Suppose you got married to your gentle and chivalrous rancher out West. Maybe you'd be able to stand it after a while, even if he dyed his hair, or had his neck shaved round. Mostly they have false teeth before they'll advertise. Probably he's a widower.
Then they went down the hillside and back to the settlement, where Nasmyth harnessed the team, which the rancher who lived near occasionally placed at Waynefleet's disposal, to a dilapidated waggon. When she gathered the reins up, Laura smiled down on him. "After all," she reminded him, "you will remember that I expect you to do me credit."
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