Whereupon he forgot Monty and pulled Patricia’s hand in through the opening and began to kiss it passionately.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
LET’S LEAVE THEM THERE
Love adapts itself to strange conditions when it must, and men and maids never find it less alluring. Eight days Gary had been imprisoned in the crosscut, and thought it a lifetime of misery. Yet the four days which he remained still a prisoner, but with Patricia perched upon the bowlder practically all of the time, the entombment became an adventure, something to tell about afterward as a bit of red-blooded pioneering that seldom falls to the lot of men nowadays.
It is true that Monty was there, pecking away at the bowlder with single-jack and gadget much of the time; but Patricia during those hours moved just far enough away to escape the swing of Monty’s hammer, and the dialogue went on—mostly of things altogether strange to Monty Girard. Gossip of the city, plans for “The Pat Connolly” mine—in which Monty was of course included.
“I shall put three names on that location,” Patricia announced, in the tone that went with the squared chin. “Whatever possessed you, Gary Marshall, to leave your name out of it—or Monty’s? Do you think I’m a—a pig?”
Monty dissented to the plan, and so did Gary—but precious little good that did them. Patricia left the bowlder then, while the matter was fresh in her mind, and made the trip down to the cabin after her fountain pen so that she could have the mine as she wanted it.
“There! If the thing is worth anything—half as much as you think, Gary—two thirds of it is as much as we could ever spend and keep decently sane on the subject. And I’m sure, Gary Marshall, you’d think Monty was earning a share, if you knew how hot it is out here in the sun. The perspiration is just rolling off him!”
“Let up a while, old son,” Gary generously implored. “I’m doing all right in here—it’s a cinch, with the eats passed in to me regularly, and not a thing in the world to do. You can send out for a preacher, Monty, and I can offer my good right hand to Pat any time. Great scene, that would make! Handsome Gary entombed——”
“For pity’s sake, Gary, don’t j-joke about it!” wailed Patricia. When Monty sent a warning frown and a “sh-sh” through to the irrepressible, Gary subsided.
“Car’s coming,” Monty announced, glad to have the distraction for Patricia, who was crying silently with her face hidden. “If that’s Joe, he’s had better luck than is possible, or he’s laid down on the job. I better go down and make shore. I’ll bring up whatever yuh-all want to eat, when I come. If it’s in the cañon,” he added cautiously, remembering some of the things Gary had perversely insisted upon.