But it was Ruth the foreman wished to speak to. He rode up, very red in the face, and stammering so that Bill Hicks demanded, with scorn:
“What’s a-troubling you, Ike? You sputter like a leaky tea-kettle. Can’t you out with what you’ve got to say to the leetle gal, an’ let us ride on?”
“I—I was just a thinkin’ that mebbe you—you could do a little errand for me, Miss,” stammered Bashful Ike.
“Gladly, Mr. Stedman,” returned Ruth, hiding her own amusement.
“It—it’s sort of a tick-lish job,” said the cowboy. “I—I want ye should buy a leetle present. It’s—it’s for a lady——”
Bill snorted. “You goin’ to invest your plunder in more dew-dabs for Sally Dickson, Ike? Yah! she wouldn’t look at you cross-eyed.”
Bashful Ike’s face flamed up redder than ever—if that was possible.
“I don’t want her to look at me cross-eyed,” he said. “She couldn’t look cross-eyed. She’s the sweetest and purtiest gal on this range, and don’t you forgit that, Mr. Hicks.”
“Sho, now! don’t git riled at me,” grunted the older man. “No offense intended. But I hate to see you waste your time and money on a gal that don’t give two pins for ye, Ike.”
“I ain’t axin’ her to give two pins for me,” said Ike, with a sort of groan. “I ain’t up to the mark with her—I know that. But thar ain’t no law keepin’ me from spending my money as I please, is there?”