“Steady, Jimmie, steady,” she said, trying to smile. “My shoulder will be all right in a minute or two. Don’t worry about it—it was just an accident, anyway. And you’ve done wonderfully, Jimmie, wonderfully! Now hurry along or some one will be passing and wondering what the coach is doing there!”
Somewhat relieved, but bitterly cursing his clumsiness, the young fellow trudged reluctantly away. A minute later, as the lumbering old vehicle gathered headway, he turned around on the box and lifted his broad-brimmed hat in a gallant, if somewhat awkward, salute. He saw a white handkerchief flutter in answer. Vastly heartened, he lashed the horses into a gallop.
For several minutes Jeanne Dudley remained sitting on the box under the laurel. Then, having regained her composure, she started to rise.
A man suddenly stepped around a thick fringe of shrubbery, vaulted lightly over the low fence, and stood before her. Her startled eyes met the leering gaze of “Wasp” Williams.
“Evening, Jeanne,” he said. He lifted his hat and swept it almost to the ground in his usual mocking manner.
The girl stepped back a pace. Her face alternately flamed and paled.
“Don’t seem to be particular cordial in welcomin’ your guests,” he grinned, putting the hat on again. “Thought all us Southerners had the name o’ bein’ mighty generous that-away!”
“Apparently,” she answered through set teeth, “you have forgotten what I told you some time ago.”
“You can’t kill with conversation,” he replied calmly. “So I guess you’ll jest have to have a nice little chat with me instead.”
The girl’s hand dropped quickly to her waist, and she reddened. In her hurry to come out, she had not thought to strap on her belt and revolver!