Manzanita looked away from him. “No one spoke to me. Only one man stared at me—a fellow with a silk vest and a waxed black mustache. But I guess he only thought I was a freak. Mart wanted to go, and I went along to look out for him. He’s such a kid, that little podhead!”
“Heavens and earth!” the contractor replied. “And what are you? Now listen here: Would your father approve of your going to Stlingbloke?”
“He was keen enough for the camps to come, and for the road to be built, I notice. Stlingbloke’s a part of it, isn’t it?”
“It is—a necessary evil, I suppose. But stay away from it, Nita. If I’m not too bold what were you doing there, anyway? I nearly fell from my saddle when I saw you poking around and peering through doors.”
“Speaking of dropping from your saddle,” said the girl, “do you see that bunch of squawtooth ahead there? Well, lope your old skate at it, and grab your saddle horn, and lean out, and le’s see if you can pull it up. Bet I can!”
“I won’t be diverted,” he told her gravely. “Anyway, I’m not up to you in fancy stunts in the saddle. What were you up to at Stlingbloke?”
“I wanted to buck roulette,” she confessed. “Mart said there were roulette wheels there. Ed Chazzy has got a big picture up in the mountains, all framed and colored and everything, of a lot of men playing roulette in a gambling house in Arizona. It’s a dandy. The gamblers have on green eye-shades, and there’s one fellow just walks about with a big cigar in his mouth and his hands behind his back. The lookout, Ed said he was. And big, big stacks of chips—all colors. And stiffs and buckaroos and Mexicanos bucking the game. So I—Mart said there was roulette at Stlingbloke, and I wanted to try it just once. So Mart and I sneaked off and rode over, but there were so many men in the places that we both lost our nerve—and then you came along and bawled us out!”
“Does your brother drink, Manzanita?”
“About a gallon and a half a day.”
“Wh-what!”