"If you go off, you nuisance, you," said the priest rubbing his bald pate, and gazing after her in a puzzled way, when we had the meal ready, "I think she'll come back and eat."
I promptly took myself off and had the glum pleasure of hearing her chat in high spirits over the dinner table of packing boxes; but she was on her cayuse and off with the scouts long before Father Holland and I had mounted.
"Rufus," said the priest with a comical, quizzical look, as we set off together. "Rufus, I think y'r a fool."
"I've thought that several hundred thousand times myself, this morning."
"Have ye as much as got a glint of her eye to-day?"
"No. I can't compete against the Church with women. Any fool knows that, even as big a fool as I."
"Tush, youngster! Don't take to licking your raw tongue up and down the cynic's saw edge! Put a spur to your broncho there and ride ahead with her."
"Having offended a goddess, I don't wish to be struck dead by inviting her wrath."
"Pah! I've no patience with y'r ramrod independence! Bend a stiff neck, or you'll break a sore heart! Ride ahead, I tell you, you young mule!" and he brought a smart flick across my broncho.
"Father Holland," I made answer with the dignity of a bishop and my nose mighty high in the air, "will you permit me to suggest that people know their own affairs best——"