“Uh-huh!” There was a caress in the female’s tones now. Mart loved his sister. They always had been pals. The carrying of the “ev’dence” to the sheriff was probably the biggest event in Martin’s life. Here was his old pal pleading to share in his triumph.
“Will ye give ’er right back?”
“Uh-huh—course I will.”
“You ain’t got any match.”
“I have, too. I always carry matches.”
“Pa Squawtooth better not find it out.”
“He knows. Suppose something was to happen, and I had to cook a jack rabbit on the desert to keep me from starving. Or get caught in front of a forest fire and be obliged to back fire.”
“Well, you wanta keep ’em outa the stables, anyway.”
“Of course. Are you going to show me the cover, Martie? Please, now!”
“Here, then. Now don’t drop it, like you do everything.”