“I am Kent Hollis.”
The young man’s eyes lighted. “Not Jim Hollis’s son?” he asked.
Hollis nodded. The young man’s face revealed genuine pleasure. “You going to stay in this here country?” he asked.
“I am going to run the Circle Bar,” returned Hollis slowly.
“Bully!” declared the young man. “There’s some folks around here said you wouldn’t have nerve enough to stay.” He made a wry face. “But I reckon you’ve got nerve or you’d have hit the breeze when I started to stampede.” He suddenly held out a hand. “I like you,” he said impulsively. “You and me are going to be friends. Shake!”
Hollis saw a smile of pleasure light up the girl’s face, which she tried to conceal by brushing the young man’s clothing with a gloved hand, meanwhile keeping him between her and Hollis.
Hollis stood near the boulder, watching them as they prepared to depart, the girl telling her brother that he would find his pony on the plains beyond the canyon.
“I am glad I didn’t hit you,” the young man told Hollis as he started away with the girl. “If you are not scared off you might take a run down to the shack some time–it’s just down the creek a ways.”
Hollis hesitated and then, catching the girl’s glance, he smiled.
“I can’t promise when,” he said, looking at the girl, “but you may be sure that I will look you up the first chance I get.”