“Yes,” responded Dick, dryly, “but she isn’t a-going to take a fancy to me. I think, father, that she would be just as likely to fall in love with you as with me. That cursed guide has got her eye; his copper-colored skin and Indian-looking head have taken her for all she’s worth.”
“He might be got out of the way,” suggested the father, a treacherous gleam in his eyes.
“Yes, but not by violence; he’s an ugly customer to handle. Besides, I don’t think the girl would like me any way, the little red-headed minx—”
“Gold! golden hair, you know,” interrupted the father.
“It’s near enough to red, any way, but that of course ain’t neither here nor there; the girl don’t like me; there’s no use beating about the bush in this matter. We might as well fix it out straight, and I don’t think she would ever like me, even if this guide, Dave Reed, was out of the way altogether.”
“As you say, we might as well understand the matter,” rejoined the father. “One thing is certain—that girl must go into Spur City your wife, or not go into it at all.” There was menace in this speech of Eben Hickman, which boded no good to the orphan girl.
The two walked on thoughtfully for a few moments, the father watching the son’s face from under his yellow eyebrows. At last, Dick spoke:
“I don’t see very well how you can make the girl marry me, unless she wants to, and if she don’t want to, as is very evident, I don’t see how you’re going to keep her from going to Spur City.”
The elder Hickman looked around again carefully; no one was near; then lowering his voice almost to a whisper he asked:
“You heard my conversation with the guide, didn’t you?”