"I want to talk with you, anyway," he said, when they had gone a short distance. "I haven't had a chance in a dog's age, you're always so hemmed in lately."
"Well, what is it?" she questioned.
"There's some rumors going around that I don't exactly understand, Hope. Have you been doing anything since you've been up here to raise a commotion among these breeds?"
She turned to him with a shrug of contempt.
"You'll have to tell me what you're driving at before I can enlighten you," she replied.
"Wait a minute," he said, "I want to light a cigarette." This accomplished, he continued: "I saw one of the boys from Bill Henry's outfit yesterday and he told me that he was afraid you were getting mixed up in some row up here."
"Who said so?" she demanded.
"Well, it was Peterson. You know he'll say what he's got to say, if he dies for it." He waited a moment.
"If it was Peterson, go on. He's a friend, if he is a fool. What did he have to say about me?" She flecked some dust from her skirt with the end of her reins.
Sydney watched her carefully.