And, so saying, she leaves us both, wet as she was in her bathing clothes, and runs on through the boathouse and up the steps. He stood looking after her, sober.
"Don't I know that!" says he, turning to me. "If it hadn't been for her it would have been all day with me. But I certainly thought she'd be over."
"It's a good thing Bonnie Bell could run that boat," says I.
"Bonnie Bell?" says he. "Is that her name? By Jove! Well now, by Jove! And what's your name?" says he.
"Wilson," says I. "They call me Curly for short."
"Curly?" says he. "That sounds sort of like a cowboy's name, don't it?"
"I never seen a cow camp yet where there wasn't some cowpuncher name Curly," says I.
"Cowpuncher! You wasn't ever one yourself, was you?" says he.
"I never was nothing else," says I.
Then he held out his hand.