“There’d ’a’ been fewer tears on this ranch if it hadn’t been for Smith.”
“Many devils—Smith.”
Susie sat on the corner of his work-table, and there was silence while he deftly mixed, rolled, and cut his dough.
“Mr. Ralston intends to go away in the morning,” said Susie, as the biscuits were slammed in the oven.
Ling wagged his head dolorously.
“And they’ll never see each other again.”
His head continued to wag.
“Ling,” Susie whispered, “we’ve got to do something.” She stepped lightly to the open door and closed it.
There were few at the supper-table that night, and there was none of the noisy banter which usually prevailed. The grub-liners came in softly and spoke in hushed tones, out of a kind of respect for two empty chairs which had been the recognized seats of Tubbs and the Indian woman.