"A girl?" repeated Bowles, with questioning gravity. "Why, what do you mean? What did you hear?"
"A girl back in New York," continued Dixie, glancing at him shrewdly as she hazarded a guess—and as she gazed he flushed and looked away.
"Whatever you have heard," he said at last, "I have nothing to be ashamed of—would you like me to get you some water?"
"Aw, Mr. Bowles," cried Dixie reproachfully, "are you trying to side-step me on this?"
"No, indeed!" replied Bowles, settling back with masterful calm. "What is it you have heard—and what would you like to know?"
He paused and regarded her expectantly, and Dixie saw that she was called. A shadow passed over her face; a shadow of annoyance, and of suspicion, perhaps, as well; but she felt the rebuke of his frankness and pursued her inquiry no further.
"Well, perhaps you are right," she said, as if answering an unspoken reproof. "It was nothing to your discredit, Mr. Bowles; and I am sure it is none of my business. I guess I'm kind of spoiled out here—I get to joshing with these cowboys until I don't know anything else. I believe I would like that drink."
Bowles leaped up promptly at the word and came back with his new hat full of water. He held it for her to drink, and as she finished and looked up she saw that his eyes were troubled.
"Oh, dear!" she cried impulsively, "have I made you any trouble? You've been so good to me here—what have I gone and done now?"
"Oh, it's not you at all," he assured her, and then his voice broke and he faltered. "But have you really heard from New York?"