Katherine looked up. Glendon, with a sudden sense of shame, replied; "I'll go back with my wife this afternoon when it gets cooler, but I'll see you both before I leave town."
Her eyes were grateful. Glendon, conscious of a halo of self-importance and good intentions, walked down the street, speaking to passers-by, though many of them responded only in deference to the woman at his side.
As they passed along the street, several men standing in front of the post office, watched them disappear into the hotel.
"Glen's turned over a new leaf," observed one of them.
"'Twon't last very long. New leaves are awful tender. They get torn mighty quick," laughed another.
"It'd been all-fired excitin' if Panchita had been in town. There'd been fur flyin', and I bet Glendon would have vamoosed and let 'em fight it out to a finish. You can get a rise outen Panchita any time you speak about Mrs. Glendon."
"If it ever comes to a show down between 'em I bet on the Mexican girl for a winner. She's got the inside track sure. Glen's wife is too high-headed to win the race."
None of them noticed Limber pausing close by as he heard Mrs. Glendon's name. The cowboy's eyes glinted, his lips were compressed and his hands clenched.
"I ain't so sure about Mrs. Glendon losing the race," retorted the first speaker. "I noticed that Glen quit prancing mighty quick when his wife slipped the halter over his head and led him off to the home pasture!"
The burst of laughter that greeted this witticism was hushed suddenly, as Limber broke through the group and faced them with blazing eyes.