Johnny flashed a brilliant smile. His smiles always looked larger than they really were, because Johnny was a very small man.
“I saw Griffith and he gave me his version—several times. He’s real upset, Griffith.... Last time he told me, he leaned up against my neck and wept because there was only ten commandments!”
“Didn’t see Gibson, did you? You know him?”
“Nope. Pappy picked him up—or he picked Pappy up, rather. Hasn’t been seen since. I guess Gibby, old boy, has gone to the wild bunch. He wouldn’t suspect you of bein’ innocent, and he dreamed he dwelt in marble walls, makin’ shoes for the state. So he gets cold feet and he just naturally evaporates—good night!”
“Yes—he said he was going to hike out, or something to that effect,” responded Jeff absently—the fact being that he was not thinking of Gibson, at all, but was pondering deeply upon Miss Ellinor Hoffman. Had she gone to New York according to the original plan? It did not seem probable. Her face stood out before him—bright, vivid, sparkling, as he had seen her last, in the court room of Arcadia. Good heavens! Was that only a week ago? Seven days? It seemed seven years!—No—she had not gone—at least, certainly not until she was sure that he, Jeff, had made good his escape. Then, perhaps, she might have gone. Perhaps her mother had made her go. Oh, well!—New York wasn’t far, as he had told her that first wonderful day on Rainbow Rim. What a marvelous day that was!
Jeff was suddenly struck with the thought that he had never seen Ellinor’s mother. Great Scott! She had a father, too! How annoying! He meditated upon this unpleasant theme for a space. Then, as if groping in a dark room, he had suddenly turned on the light, his thought changed to—What a girl! Ah, what a wonderful girl! Where is she?
Looking up, Jeff became once more aware of Johnny Dines, leg curled around the horn of the new saddle, elbow on knee, cheek on hand, contemplating his poor friend with benevolent pity. And then Jeff knew that he could make no queries of Johnny Dines.
Johnny spake soothingly.
“You are in North America. This is the Twentieth Century. Your name is Bransford. That round bright object is the sun. This direction is East. This way is called ‘up.’ This is a stream of water that you see. It is called the Rio River Grand Big. We are advertised by our loving friends. I cannot sing the old songs. There’s a reason. Two of a kind flock together. Never trump your pardner’s ace. It’s a wise child that dreads the fire. Wake up! Come out of it! Change cars!”