"I imagine he'll be around to oversee the work," remarked Lucy in a tone that probably made Drummond long to choke her.
"Well, that's not the point," she went on after a little. "What are we going to do to get at that creature known as Jerkline Jo, the four-flusher? She's crooked as a dog's hind leg, and goes around pulling the pious stuff on the roughnecks."
"You think because you're crooked every other woman is, eh? I'll say this for Jo—she's straight and a dead-game sport. She's not a four-flusher. Of course I'd do anything to get even for the way she handed it to me in the freighting game. But there's no sense in you and me running her down to each other when we don't believe ourselves."
"So you've fallen for her, too, have you?" Lucy asked sarcastically.
"Don't be a fool, Lucy! A man can't help admiring a girl like Jo."
"Thanks for your assurances, Al," Lucy said cuttingly.
"Well, well, well! Scrap all night about nothing! Forget it! Shut up! Guess who I saw to-day as I was driving over the desert."
"Who?" sullenly.
"Your dear old uncle."
"My uncle!"