"But after all, Gimlet, it's Uncle Bryant's ranch and he can do what he wants with it."
"Nuther thing," growled Gimlet, "they's a puncher here, callin' hisself, 'Yuma.'"
"What about him?"
"Yuh c'n trust that big maverick, Miss Penny. He thinks a heap about you."
Penny said nothing.
Gimlet went on with a lengthy discourse about the fine qualities of Yuma. He and Yuma had spent hours in close confab in the kitchen, and Yuma had expressed his feelings, confidentially, to Gimlet.
Penny's face grew red as the frank old man continued. Finally she cut him off. "Those children are waiting for you, Gimlet."
"All right, I'm a-goin' tuh 'em. But you jest remember that Yuma is ace-high with me an' yore ace-high with him." Gimlet shuffled toward the kitchen door.
Penny wanted to get away from the surroundings and be alone with her thoughts. She had at least two hours before her uncle would be expecting her for the evening meal. Hurriedly she changed to riding clothes and left the vicinity on Las Vegas.
She discounted the seriousness of all that Gimlet had said about her uncle's "legal paper." Obviously just a will. The thing that concerned her most was the truth about Bryant's eyes. During the day she had tried to observe him carefully. There were times when she was sure he had trouble seeing things. Then she thought he had truly fired at Mort, but failing eyes had made his shot go wild and coincidence had made it drill Yuma's hat.