“What have you done since I told you to behave yourself?” she asked, assuming a judicial seriousness which was extremely comical.
He laughed heartily, for she was so droll, her eyes flashing so with vivacity, and so rarely beautiful that he breathed deep in unconscious effort to absorb some of the atmosphere she had created. And he was not alone in his mirth, for Helen’s audacity had caused smiles to come to Miss Ritchie and Mrs. Shields, who were content to take no part in the conversation, and even Mary forgot to be serious.
“Well, I haven’t had time to do much,” he replied in humble apology, “although I have been occupied in a desultory way on the Cross Bar-8 for a week, and before that I was quite busily engaged in traveling for my health. You see, this climate occasionally affects me, and I am forced to go south or west for a change of air. I was just starting out on my last trip when I first met you, and I have reason to believe that my promptness in leaving you saved me much annoyance. But I have cooked quite a few meals in the interim–and I’ve learned how mutton should be broiled, too. I’ll have to confess, however, that I have been out late nights. But then, I’ll have a better record to report next time, honest I will.”
Helen leveled an accusing finger at him: “You spoiled all the cooking utensils on that ranch, and you scared that poor cook so bad that he fled in terror of his life and left those poor, tired men to get all their own meals. Now, that was not right, do you see? The poor cook, he was almost frightened to death. I am almost ashamed of you; you will have to promise that you will not do anything like that again.”
“I promise, cross my heart,” he replied eagerly, thinking of the five dead punchers she had been kind enough to overlook. “I solemnly promise never to scare that cook again,” then seeing that she was about to object, he added, “nor any other cook.”
“And you’ll promise not to spoil any more tins, or terrorize that poor outfit, or burn any more corrals, and everything like that?” she asked quickly, for she detected a trace of seriousness in his face and wished to drive home her advantage. If she could get a serious promise from him she would rest content, for she knew he would keep his word.
He thought for an instant and then turned a smiling face to her. Seeing veiled entreaty in her eyes, he suddenly felt a quiet gladness steal over him. Perhaps she really cared about his welfare, after all, though he dared not hope for that. He grew serious, and when he spoke she knew that he had given his word.
“I promise not to take the initiative in any warfare, nor to harass the Cross Bar-8 unless they force me to in self-defense,” he replied.
She hid her elation, for she had gained the point her brother had failed to win, and did not wish to risk anything by showing her feelings. As if to reward him for yielding to her, she led the conversation from the personal grounds it had assumed and cleverly got him to talk about the country and everything pertaining to it.
He was thoroughly at ease now, and for an hour held them interested by his knowledge of the trails and the natural phenomena. He told them of cattle herding, its dangers and sports; and his description of a stampede was masterly. He recounted the struggles of the first settlers with the Indians, and even quite extensively covered the field of practical prospecting, lightening his story with naïve bits of humor and witty personal opinions which had them laughing heartily. It was not long before they forgot that they were entertaining, or, rather, being entertained by an outlaw; and as for himself, it was the most pleasant evening he had ever known. There was such an air of friendliness and they were so natural and human that he was stimulated to his best efforts; the barriers had been broken down.