"No!" came the voice of Gracia, vibrant with indignation. "I say no!" The spat of her hand rang out again and then, with a piteous sobbing, she came running back to Bud, halting with the stiffness of her long ride.
"I hate you!" she screamed, as Phil came after her. "Oh, I hate you! No, you shall never have the kiss! What! if Bud here has refused it, will I give a kiss to you? Ah, you poor, miserable creature!" she cried, wheeling upon him in a sudden fit of passion. "Where were you when I was in danger? Where were you when there was no one to save me? And did you think, then, to steal a kiss, when my heart was sore for Bud? Ah, coward! You are no fit pardner! No, I will never marry you—never! Well, go then! And hurry! Oh, how I hate you—to try to steal me from Bud!"
She turned and threw her arms about Hooker's neck and drew his rough face down to hers.
"You do love me, don't you, Bud?" she sobbed. "Oh, you are so good—so brave! And now will you take the kiss?"
"Try me!" said Bud.
Underwood Typewriter
Points of Merit:
Award Grand Prize, Highest Honor Panama-Pacific International Exposition