“Oh, no!” Keith laughed a little. “A girl can't always have her own way just because she wants it, even if she—”
“I've got a fish, Mr. Cam'ron!” Dorman squealed, and Keith was obliged to devote another five minutes to diplomacy.
“I think you have fished long enough, honey,” Beatrice told Dorman decidedly. “It's nearly dinner time, and Looey Sam won't have time to fry your fish if you don't hurry home. Shall I tell Dick you wished to see him, Mr. Cameron?”
“It's nothing important, so I won't trouble you,” Keith replied, in a tone that matched hers for cool courtesy. “I'll see him to-morrow, probably.” He helped Dorman reel in his line, cut a willow-wand and strung the three fish upon it by the gills, washed his hands leisurely in the creek, and dried them on his handkerchief, just as if nothing bothered him in the slightest degree. Then he went over and smoothed Redcloud's mane and pulled a wisp of forelock from under the brow-band, and commanded him to shake hands, which the horse did promptly.
“I want to shake hands wis your pony, too,” Dorman cried, and dropped pole and fish heedlessly into the grass.
“All right, kid.”
Dorman went up gravely and clasped Redcloud's raised fetlock solemnly, while the tall cow-puncher smiled down at him.
“Kiss him, Redcloud,” he said softly; and then, when the horse's nose was thrust in his face: “No, not me—kiss the kid.” He lifted the child up in his arms, and when Redcloud touched his soft nose to Dorman's cheek and lifted his lip for a dainty, toothless nibble, Dorman was speechless with fright and rapture thrillingly combined.
“Now run home with your fish; it lacks only two hours and forty minutes to dinner time, and it will take at least twenty minutes for the fish to fry—so you see you'll have to hike.”
Beatrice flushed and looked at him sharply, but Keith was getting into the saddle and did not appear to remember she was there. The fingers that were tying her hat-ribbons under her chin fumbled awkwardly and trembled. Beatrice would have given a good deal at that moment to know just what Keith Cameron was thinking; and she was in a blind rage with herself to think that it mattered to her what he thought.