“It has got well, first rate,” said he, meditatively. “Your father can sure get his certificate off me, any day.”
He spoke lightly, not glancing at the upturned, troubled face. He spoke truthfully. His foot was well on the road to recovery, but he knew, in his heart of hearts, that he was running away from the Palo Verde, and that his resolution to do so was not very strong.
“It’s the first time you have been on a horse since that day,” Helen continued. “Wouldn’t you do better to go in the buckboard, after all?”
He knew that hers was but the solicitude of the hostess; but the kindly interest of her tone was like nectar to him. It drew his eyes to hers, which suddenly sought his stirrup. Gard pulled himself up with a jerk.
“I’ll be all right,” said he, with a sudden stiffening of voice and manner. “I ought to ’ve gone before.”
She drew back, a little coldly.
“It’s too bad you’ve been detained,” she said, and he could not bear it.
“It ain’t that,” he said, quickly. “I’d like to stay. I don’t know how to tell you how I’d like to stay. But I’ve got to go. And anyway, I must be in Sylvania soon ’s possible. There’s a heap of things I’ve got to do. I—”
He realized that he was getting beyond bounds, and was glad that Morgan Anderson came up from the corrals just then.
“Here’s your last chance, if you want to change your mind and go in the buckboard,” the cattleman called.