He put his hand to his neck hurriedly. His necktie was loose, and had twisted to one side in the struggle. He colored quite as much from the sensitiveness of a studiously neat man as from the fear of discovery. “And what's that?” she added, pointing to the shawl.
“One of my samples that I suppose was turned out of the coach and forgotten in the transfer,” he said glibly. “I thought it might keep you warm.”
She looked at it dubiously and laid it gingerly aside. “You don't mean to say you go about with such things OPENLY?” she said querulously.
“Yes; one mustn't lose a chance of trade, you know,” he resumed with a smile.
“And you haven't found this journey very profitable,” she said dryly. “You certainly are devoted to your business!” After a pause, discontentedly: “It's quite night already—we can't sit here in the dark.”
“We can take one of the coach lamps inside; they're still there. I've been thinking the matter over, and I reckon if we leave one lighted outside the coach it may guide your friends back.” He HAD considered it, and believed that the audacity of the act, coupled with the knowledge the Indians must have of the presence of the soldiers in the vicinity, would deter rather than invite their approach.
She brightened considerably with the coach lamp which he lit and brought inside. By its light she watched him curiously. His face was slightly flushed and his eyes very bright and keen looking. Man killing, except with old professional hands, has the disadvantage of affecting the circulation.
But Miss Cantire had noticed that the flask smelt of whiskey. The poor man had probably fortified himself from the fatigues of the day.
“I suppose you are getting bored by this delay,” she said tentatively.
“Not at all,” he replied. “Would you like to play cards? I've got a pack in my pocket. We can use the middle seat as a table, and hang the lantern by the window strap.”