In much the same tone—the tone of a man buying, or selling, or proposing a co-partnership for business purposes—Henry Miller carried on the conversation all the way back until they reached the corn-crib, where he came to a stand-still.
"Whaddy yeh say, Rachel? Is it a bargain?"
"Well, Henry, it's sudden like. I want to take time to think it over."
"Then I'll take back the offer and put out for the Ioway country. I'm not a-going to have my skelp a-hanging to your belt for days and days, like the rest of them. What's the use of thinking? You don't want to take Magill, do you?"
"He's too old, and his nose is rather red," laughed Rachel.
"Nor Tom Grayson, I suppose?" Henry mentioned Tom as the second because he was the one about whom he had misgivings.
"I give him the sack before the shooting, and I'm not going to go back to him now."
Rachel faltered a little in this reply, but she spoke with that resolute insincerity for which women hold an indulgence in advance when their hearts are being searched.
"Well," said Henry, "if you think you can do better by waiting, I m off. If you think I'm about as good a man as you're likely to pick up, here's your chance. It's going, going, gone with me. Either I marry you and take father's offer, or I put out for the Ioway country. I don't ask you to think I'm perfection, but just to take a sober, common-sense look at things."
Rachel saw that it was of no use to expect Henry to court her, and she could not help liking him the better for his honest straightforwardness. She looked down a minute, in the hope that he would say something that might make it easier for her to answer, but he kept his silence.