"That's my lariat; you hand it over here!" he exclaimed gruffly; thereupon the soft-voiced twin picked himself up, very carefully brushed the dust from his sleeve, and answered slowly, in a particularly sweet tone:
"I ain't a-goin' to fight you here in front of the teacher. That's my rope. Go an' get it if you want it! But she's got yourn. I saw her pick it up by mistake this mornin'. You've tied up your dude cayuse twice with her'n to-day. Must have somethin' the matter with your eyes. I ain't a-goin' to lick you er fight with you, but I'm goin' to get even with you for this!"
"Here's your rope," said Hope, taking it from her saddle and handing it to the boy. Dave took it shamefacedly, throwing her rope on the ground, then hid himself on the opposite side of his pony. In an instant the soft-voiced twin picked up the teacher's stake-rope, coiled it, and tied it on to her saddle.
The girl stood to one side watching him. She wondered at his quickness. He must have inherited something of his grandmother's acuteness. But her sympathy turned to the other boy—big, clumsy, rough Dave. He was standing out of sight behind his horse, embarrassed by his own error. Hope felt sorry for him. She had already found it very difficult to keep peace between these boys and herself. Each day brought some new ruffle that required all her wit to smooth over.
The soft-voiced twin handed the bridle reins to her, then turned to his own horse, which had wandered away toward more tempting pasture. The girl thanked him, and walked over to Dave. He looked at her sullenly, a certain dogged obstinacy in his eyes. She had intended to say something kind to him, instead she spoke indifferently, yet to the point.
"Go home with Dan the same as usual. Say nothing about it, but get my rifle and meet me here at the school in two hours—six o'clock. There is a big flock of chickens that fly over that point every evening."
The boy made no reply, but his face changed noticeably, and he jumped on his horse, calling his twin to hurry up; but the soft-voiced boy had no notion of leaving his teacher, so Dave, with a savage whoop, ran his pony to the top of the hill, leaving the school-house and his uncomfortable feelings far in the background.
"Why don't you go with him?" asked the girl.
"I'm waitin' for you," replied the boy.
"But I'm not going just now. You'd better run along with Dave."