“If you have to go to the Bar M Bar, then back to the round-up,” she said at last, “you’ll be riding half the night.”
“That don’t worry me,” Robin returned. “But I reckon you want to get home before dark, so I’ll drift.”
“I don’t particularly care whether I get home before dark or not,” she answered. “I don’t have to stand guard or go on day herd to-morrow. Don’t you sleep now and then?”
“I can sleep when there’s nothin’ else to do,” Robin told her. “I wouldn’t waste time sleepin’ if I could sit on a pinnacle and talk to you.”
“Do you like to talk to me?” she inquired demurely.
“Sure.”
“Why?”
The point-blank question, half-amused, half-serious, stumped Robin. He had more or less impulsively uttered the truth as it stirred in him at the moment. The “why” he couldn’t answer, except haltingly. But he did his best.
“I don’t know, unless it’s because you seem a heap different from any girl I ever came across,” he replied honestly.
“Are you sure of that?” May inquired smilingly. “I’m white and past twenty-one. I’ve got hands and feet, a nose and mouth and hair just like other girls. Where’s the difference?”