“But I’ll fix Pa Squawtooth,” Manzanita went on. “I’ve got it all planned out. He can’t sell me like one of his beef stock to any moneyed man. I’m going to revolt.”
“What d’ye mean revolt?”
“Can you keep your young face closed?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, then, I’m going to make monkeys out of Pa Squawtooth and any one who contemplates aiding and abetting him in the crime of making a lady out of me. I’m going to pretend to fall right in with the big scheme of getting friendly with the men in the camps. I’m going to pick me a railroader and make up to him. Listen, kid brother—I’m going to pick out the least prominent person in the whole shooting match—the man who gets the lowest pay of all of them, the scum of the camps. And I’ll at least give him the time of his young life. Say, won’t they be sick, podhead! Try to make a monkey out of me! We’ll see who’s a monkey by the time I’m through. Mart, I’m going to be a regular little devil! You watch!”
“That’ll be fun,” Mart observed sagely. “Who you gonta make out like you’re stuck on, Nita? Say, that was my side o’ bacon! Here she is half covered with sand. That ole skate o’ yours stepped on her!”
“It’s all right. Dust it off, and it’ll be good as ever. Sand’s good for your craw. It’s a wonder you wouldn’t learn how to throw a diamond hitch on a pack, Mart. But listen: Mr. Mangan told me all about the camps, and the different kinds of work the men do. I’m going to make friends with the man who wallops the pots in the Mangan-Hatton cook tent. I don’t care who he is or what he’s like. Pa says I’m a roughneck, and I’ll at least show him he’s right about that. I’m going to get stuck—as you so vulgarly put it—on the helper of Mangan’s cook. They call him a flunky, Mr. Mangan said. Now you keep that under your hat, will you?”
“Sure,” Mart promised, still taking his kidney treatment.
Then suddenly he stopped in his tracks and pointed across the darkening desert toward Opaco. “What’s that big dust cloud?” he wondered. “Can’t be a whirlwind—she’s too big. Say, Nita! That’s Mangan’s outfit a-comin’. What’ll ye bet?”