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"Here is this, however," he said, handing her a folded slip of paper. She opened it and looked at the writing inside. It was a receipt from the postmaster at Stockchute to Lafayette Ashton for certain letters delivered for mailing. The address of the letter to Thomas Blake was given in full. The girl colored, bit her lip, and murmured contritely: "You have turned the tables on me. I deserved it!"
He would have Rocket well in hand before they came to rough country. Early in the afternoon, having nothing else to do, Isobel again saddled up and started off towards Dry Fork. Her intention was to ride out on the road to Stockchute and meet Ashton, if he was not too late. As she rode up one side of the divide, a hat appeared over the bend of the other side.
So, you see, I may have a little difficulty " "No you won't. There's our wagon trail. Even if you got off that, all you'd have to do would be to keep headed for Split Peak. That's right in line with Stockchute. But you'll not start till morning. I haven't got all my letters written. That'll give you all day to go and come. It's only twenty-five miles over there.
Having a dude puncher on our range kind of stirred up my emulosity. They don't have real cowboy attire like his at an ordinary shorthorn cow town like Stockchute but I did the best I could." Blake made no response to this heavy badinage. He set the supper on the chuck-box, and laconically said: "Come and get it."
Also, the girl had more of a start than he had at first realized, and she did her best to hold the handicap. Hitched to the light buckboard, her young broncos could have run a good part of the way to Stockchute. She was far out on the flat before she at last tired of the wild bumping over ruts and sagebrush roots, and pulled her horses down to a walk.
Respectfully, etc. The signature was that of his father's confidential lawyers, and below, to the left, lest there be no possibility of misunderstanding, were his name and address in full: "Mr. Lafayette Ashton, Stockchute, Colorado." Again he bent over with his head on his breast and the letter clutched convulsively in his slender palm.
"Needn't think I'm sucking around you for any favors or friendship. If this was my range, I would run you off it so fast you'd reach Stockchute with your tongue hanging out like a dog's. That's how much I like you." "The feeling is fully reciprocated, I assure you," rejoined Ashton. "All right. Now what're we going to do about him? each play a lone hand, or make it pardners for this deal?"
Chancing to look around as he warned the hilarious pair of a gully, he saw the girl grasp Blake's shoulder. Natural as was the act, his envy flared up in hot resentment. Except on their drive to Stockchute, she had always avoided even touching his hand with her finger tips; yet now she clung to the engineer with a grasp as familiar as that of an affectionate child.
Two hours out from Stockchute he awoke and vociferously demanded nourishment. Promptly the party was brought to a halt. They were among the piñons on one of the hillsides. While the baby took his dinner, Isobel laid out the lunch and the men burned incense in the guise of a pair of Havana cigars produced by Blake.
"Going to rope the rocks and pull them up for steps?" asked Gowan. "I shall need two or three hundred feet of half-inch manila," said Blake, ignoring the sarcasm. "They may have it at Stockchute," said Knowles. "Kid, you can drive over with the wagon and fetch Mr. Blake all the rope and other things he wants. I can't stand this waiting much longer." "There will be no time lost," said Blake.
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