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He was staring at it the evening Canby rode down on him staring and thinking so hard of Helene Spenceley that Canby had checked his horse and was looking at him before he saw him. It would be impossible to say which was the more astonished.
"Coward!" he cried to Pinkey. "You don't dare get on him!" "Can you ride him 'slick, Pinkey?" asked Miss Spenceley. "I'll do it er bust somethin'." Pinkey's mouth had a funny quirk at the corners. "Maybe it'll take the kinks out of me from travellin'." He looked at Mr. Cone doubtfully: "I'm liable to rip up the sod in your front yard a little." "Go to it!" cried Mr.
He remembered the ancient adage, and while he did not consider himself an eavesdropper or believe that Miss Spenceley meant anything personal, nevertheless the shoe fit to such a nicety that he hurried to the elevator, his step accelerated by the same sense of guilt that had sent Mr. Cone scuttling to his refuge behind the counter. "Squaw-man" the term was as new to him as "Gentle Annie."
There was something permanent-looking about a well and he chuckled as he speculated as to what Canby would say when he heard of it, and he wished with all his heart that he might be around when Helene Spenceley learned that he was sinking a well on his place for household and stock purposes.
He stepped off a pace to look at it. "Pardon me, but I think you're mistaken," Wallie said, politely but positively. "The Academy buys only thoroughbreds." "If that ain't a bronc, I'll eat it," Pinkey declared, bluntly. "Can you make out the brand?" asked Miss Spenceley. Pinkey ruffed the hair again and stepped back and squinted.
With a shrug he turned and walked toward Helene Spenceley. Her eyes were shining, and there was a singular smile on her face as he went up to her, but whether she smiled or frowned did not seem to matter much to Wallie. He was not a pretty sight at the moment, and he knew it.
Such duplicity was without his experience, and sickened him nearly as much as the thought of the $600 he had invested in horses so radically wrong that Helene Spenceley would not take them as a gift. The single thought which came to solace him as he stood humiliated and panic-stricken was that she resented the dishonest trick that had been played upon him.
"Thumb him," said Miss Spenceley, "and we'll soon settle the argument." "How thumb him? The term is not familiar." "Show him, Pinkey." Her eyes were sparkling, for Wallie's tone implied that the expression was slang and also rather vulgar. "He'll unload his pack as shore as shootin'." Pinkey hesitated. "No time like the present to learn a lesson," she replied, ambiguously.
Miss Spenceley was on the veranda as he had surmised she would be, and Wallie debated as to whether he should wait until discovered and urged to show his roses, or frankly offer his work for criticism. While he hesitated, the clatter of hoofs and what appeared to be a serious runaway on the side avenue brought everyone up standing.
"That, too, but mostly because Helene dressed him down for sellin' that locoed team to you. He's jealous." Even in his despair Wallie felt pleased that any one, especially Canby, should be jealous of him because of Helene Spenceley. "He aims to marry her," Pinkey added. "I wisht you could beat his time and win yerself a home somehow.
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