“If you'll hand me the gun, Mr. Cameron, I think I can hold it steady while you fix the saddles. And then we'll go home. I—I don't think I really care to climb the hill.”
What Keith wanted to do was to take her in his arms and kiss her till he was tired. What he did do was back toward her, and let her take the rifle quickly and deftly from his hands. She rested the gun upon her knee, and brought it to bear upon Mr. Kelly with a composure not assuring to that gentleman, and she tried to look as if she really and truly would shoot a man—and managed to look only the more kissable.
“Don't squirm, Mr. Kelly. I won't bite, if I do buzz sometimes.”
Kelly stared at her meditatively a minute, and said: “Well, I'll be damned!”
Keith looked at her also, but he did not say anything.
The way he slapped his saddle back upon Redcloud and cinched it, and saddled Rex, was a pretty exhibition of precision and speed, learned in roundup camps. Kelly watched him grimly.
“I knowed you wasn't as swift as yuh knew how 't be, a while back,” he commented. “I've got this t' say fur you two: You're a little the toughest proposition I ever run up ag'inst—and I've been up ag'inst it good and plenty.”
“Thanks,” Keith said cheerfully. “You'd better take Rex now and go ahead, Miss Lansell. I'll take that gun and look after this fellow. Get up, Kelly.”
“What are you going to do with him?”
Kelly got unsteadily upon his feet. Beatrice looked at him, and then at Keith. She asked a question.