“That fellow’s too flip!”
But the idea had taken hold of the Girl, though she temporised shyly:
“Oh, I dunno! Makes me feel kind o’ foolish, you know, kind o’ retirin’ like a elk in summer.”
Johnson smiled in spite of himself.
“Elks are retiring,” was his comment as he again advanced and offered his arm in an impressive and ceremonious manner.
“Well, I don’t like everybody’s hand on the back o’ my waist,” said the Girl, running her hands up and down her dress skirt. “But, somehow—” She stopped, and fixing her eyes recklessly on Rance, made a movement as if about to accept; but another look at Johnson’s preferred arm so embarrassed her that she sent a look of appeal to the rough fellows, who stood watching her with grinning faces.
“Oh, Lord, must I?” she asked; then, hanging back no longer, she suddenly flung herself into his arms with the cry: “Oh, come along!”
Promptly Johnson put his arm around the Girl’s waist, and breaking into a polka he swung her off to the dance-hall where their appearance was greeted with a succession of wild whoops from the men there, as well as from the hilarious boys, who had rushed pell-mell after them.
Left to himself and in a rage Rance began to pace the floor.
“Cleaned out—cleaned out for fair by a high-toned, fine-haired dog named Johnson! Well, I’ll be—” The sentence was never finished, his attention being caught and held by something which Nick was carrying in from the dance-hall.