“How many are left out?” asked Weary, since no one else showed any symptoms of speech.
“Oh, not many, thank goodness. Just us three here. You've met Miss Allen, Mr. Davidson—and Miss Price. And so have you other gentlemen, because I introduced you at the depot. I went blandly ahead and told everybody just which rig they were to ride in, and put three in a seat, at that, and in counting noses I forgot to count our own—”
“I really don't see how she managed to overlook mine,” sighed Miss Allen, laying a dainty, gloved finger upon a nose that had the tiniest possible tilt to it. “Nobody ever overlooked my nose before; it's almost worth walking to the tract.”
Irish, standing close beside Weary and looking enough like him to be a twin instead of a mere cousin, smiled down at her with traitorous admiration. Miss Allen's nose was a nice nose, and above it twinkled a pair of warm brown eyes with humorous little wrinkles, around them; and still above them fluffed a kinky-curly mass of brown hair. Weary looked at her also, but he did not smile, because she looked a little like his own schoolma'am, Miss Ruty Satterly—and the resemblance hurt a sore place in his heart.
“—So if any of you gentlemen could possibly take us out to the tract, we'd be eternally grateful, besides keeping our independence intact with the usual payment. Could you help us out?”
“We all came in on horseback,” Weary stated with a gentle firmness that was intended to kill their hopes as painlessly as possible.
“Wouldn't there be room on behind?” asked Miss Allen with hope still alive and flourishing.
“Lots of room,” Weary assured her. “More room than you could possibly use.”
“But isn't there any kind of a rig that you could buy, beg, borrow or steal?” Miss Hallman insisted. “These girls came from Wisconsin to take up claims, and I've promised to see that they get the best there is to be had. They are hustlers, if I know what the word means. I have a couple of claims in mind, that I want them to see—and that's why we three hung back till the rest were all arranged for. I had a rig promised that I was depending on, and at the last minute discovered it was not to be had. Some doctor from Havre came and got it for a trip into the hills. There's no use talking; we just must get out to the tract as soon as the others do—a little sooner wouldn't hurt. Couldn't you think of some way?”
“We'll try,” Irish promised rashly, his eyes tying to meet Miss Allen's and succeeding admirably.