“Huh! But I got somethin’ to tell you.”
“I’ll begin to b’lieve that pretty soon. Or you might get you one o’ these little typewriters they carry in a case. ’Twouldn’t be heavy. You could keep it on yer tank wagon and begat all the way to Squawtooth an’ back.”
“Huh! Come on over closter. I oughtn’t to butt in there, an’ I gotta talk low. This here’s an important secret.”
She shrugged, rose, and carried her camp chair nearer to the wagon seat, setting it down so that she would be safely out of the reach of this obstinate male.
“They c’n hear me all over camp. This here’s sumpin just between you an’ me.”
With a pout Wing o’ the Crow rose again and moved the chair nearer. But as she started to sit down Halfaman reached out and moved it nearer still, so that she alighted on the bare edge of it and was saved from toppling off by his ready hand. Apparently she considered the near catastrophe as due to her own awkwardness, for she said nothing to show that she thought her lover responsible.
“Well, shoot!” she encouraged, demurely folding her hands in her lap.
Mr. Daisy leaned so that his lips were close to her little ear and shot.
“Kid, I’m crazy about you!” was the ammunition that he used.
“Aw, bunk! Is that all ye got to tell me?”