“Luck ought to come my way once in a while. I don't seem to get more than my share, though.”
“Dick will be glad to know you have a good range for your cattle, Mr. Cameron.”
“I expect he will. You may tell him, for me, that Jim Worthington—he's the agent over there, and was in college with us—says I can have my cattle there as long as he's running the place.”
“Why not tell him yourself?” Beatrice asked.
“I don't expect to be over to the Pool ranch for a while.” Keith's tone was significant, and Beatrice dropped the subject.
“Been fishing lately?” he asked easily, as though he had not left her that day in a miff. “No. Dorman is fickle, like all male creatures. Dick brought him two little brown puppies the other day, and now he can hardly be dragged from the woodshed to his meals. I believe he would eat and sleep with them if his auntie would allow him to.”
The trail narrowed there, and they were obliged to ride single file, which was not favorable to conversation. Thus far, Beatrice thought, she was a long way from winning her wager; but she did not worry—she looked up to where the hill towered above them, and smiled.
“We'll have to get off and lead our horses over this spur,” he told her, at last. “Once on the other side, we can begin to climb. Still in the humor to tackle it?”
“To be sure I am. After all this trouble I shall not turn back.”
“All right,” said Keith, inwardly shouting. If his Heart's Desire wished to take a climb that would last a good two hours, he was not there to object. He led her up a steep, rock-strewn ridge and into a hollow. From there the hill sloped smoothly upward.