“Lord!” he sighed, “you sure had me going. And you don’t know which ankle you sprained?”
“I’ve clean forgot. And now she’ll find out that I’ve lied to her.”
“She?” said Norton significantly.
“Marion Harlan,” grinned Taylor.
Norton caught his breath with a gasp. “You mean you’ve fallen in love with her? And that you’ve made her—Oh, Lord! What a situation! Don’t you know her uncle and Carrington are in cahoots in this deal?”
“It’s my recollection that I told you about that the day I got back,” Taylor reminded him. And then Taylor told him the story of the bandaged ankle.
When Taylor concluded, Norton lay back in his chair and regarded his friend blankly.
“And you mean to tell me that all the time you were fighting Carrington and Danforth you were thinking about that ankle?”
“Mostly all the time,” Taylor admitted.
Norton made a gesture of impotence. “Well,” he said, “if a man can keep his mind on a girl while two men are trying to knock hell out of him, he’s sure got a bad case. And all I’ve got to say is that you’re going to have a lovely ruckus!”