“Yes, ma'am.”
“Then you will not care if I ride with you?” She asked. “I am a trifle frightened.”
“Why, I'd be some pleased if yu do, 'though there ain't nothing out here to be afraid of now.”
“I had no intention of getting lost,” she assured him, “but I dismounted to pick flowers and cactus leaves and after a while I had no conception of where I was.”
“How is it yu are out here?” He asked. “Yu shouldn't get so far from town.”
“Why, papa is an invalid and doesn't like to leave his room, and the town is so dull, although the carnival is waking it up somewhat. Having nothing to do I procured a horse and determined to explore the country. Why, this is like Stanley and Livingstone, isn't it? You rescued the explorer!” And she laughed heartily. He wondered who in thunder Stanley and Livingstone were, but said nothing.
“I like the West, it is so big and free,” she continued. “But it is very monotonous at times, especially when compared with New York. Papa swears dreadfully at the hotel and declares that the food will drive him insane, but I notice that he eats much more heartily than he did when in the city. And the service!—it is awful. But when one leaves the town behind it is splendid, and I can appreciate it because I had such a hard season in the city last winter—so many balls, parties and theaters that I simply wore myself out.”
“I never hankered much for them things,” Hopalong replied. “An' I don't like th' towns much, either. Once or twice a year I gets as far as Kansas City, but I soon tires of it an' hits th' back trail. Yu see, I don't like a fence country—I wants lots of room an' air.”
She regarded him intently: “I know that you will think me very forward.”
He smiled and slowly replied: “I think yu are all O. K.”