“Hi, lady!” he drawled. “Are ye mad with me?”
“I don’t like you, M’Gill,” the girl said, frankly. “You don’t expect me to, do you?”
“Aw, why be fussy?” asked the cowboy, gaily. “It’s too pretty a world to hold grudges. Let’s be friends, Frances.”
Frances grew restive under his leering smile and forced gaiety. She searched M’Gill sharply with her look.
“You didn’t gallop out of your way to tell me this,” she said. “What do you want of me?”
“Oh, just to say how-de-do!” declared the fellow, still with his leering smile. “And to wish you a good journey.”
“What do you know about my journey?” asked Frances, quickly.
But Ratty M’Gill was not so much intoxicated that he could be easily coaxed to divulge any secret. He shook his head, still grinning.
“Heard ’em say you were going to Amarillo, before I went to Jackleg,” he drawled. “Mighty lonesome journey for a gal to take.”
“Mack is with me,” said Frances, shortly. “I am not lonely.”