“Jail,” she answered supinely, as he hesitated.
“No,” he said grimly. “I was going to take you home—for to-night, anyway.”
“Home! Oh, how you startle me! I didn’t know there was any of those home-stuff places left except in the movies. I never was much stuck on home, so you needn’t be afraid to call it ‘jail’ for fear of hurting my feelings.”
“You can’t work on my sympathy that way,” he said coldly.
“Dear me!” she replied with a silly, little giggle. “I gave up trying to work the sympathy racket long ago. Everyone’s too smart nowadays. Honest, I’ve no longings for home. I feel sorry for anyone who’s tied down to one. Why don’t you kick over the traces and come off your trail and see what’s on the other side of your hills? I’d hate to take root here. Say, Mr. Sheriff Man, you look a good sort, even if you have played you were deaf and dumb for the whole of this awful ride. Let’s sidetrack the trail and go—home—by moonlight.”
His eyes remained rigid and relentless, but there was a slight twitching of his strongest feature, the wide, mobile mouth.
He looked at his watch.
“We can wait for a few minutes,” he said in a matter of fact voice.
“Please, may I get out and stretch?” she asked pleadingly.
Taking silence for consent, she climbed out of the car.