Still, that was “a new one on him,” he afterwards declared, and it rather rankled to be called a “fat cub.”
Billie was always polite, especially with the other sex; and so he managed to scramble to his feet, rather awkwardly to be sure, for he had skinned his left knee in landing after that wild plunge; and trying to make a sort of half-way sort of bow, he said:
“I beg your pardon ma’m, but I was acting under orders from the boss. He wanted his gun so’s to be ready to fight the rustlers if they came along, and asked me to get the same for him; so I clumb in through the window, because he said that was the shortest way around. And when you came so sudden-like on me, why, I just got rattled some, I s’pose, and took a jump through the window. But no damage was done ’cept that I knocked a piece of skin off my left knee ’bout as big as my hand, feels like. Sorry to have bothered you, ma’m, but I tried not to make any noise, sure I did.”
“Yes, you crept in just like a thief, and I reckon that’s what line you follow when you’re to home,” the angry woman flung at him, accompanying each word with a furious shake of her hand, which seemed disappointed not to have been able to bury itself among Billie’s hair.
“It was all my fault, Josie,” remarked Mr. Comstock just then, possibly ashamed to let the boy bear the brunt of her displeasure; “I wanted my belt very much; and you seemed to be having one of your headaches, so I thought I wouldn’t pass in through your room and disturb you. I asked him to just crawl through the window and reach my belt, which he succeeded in doing. It’s all right, Josie!”
“Oh! you think so, do you, Mr. Fred Comstock?” she cried shrilly, and with her blazing eyes turned toward her husband. “Shows what sort of a coward you
are, sir, to employ a silly fool of a boy to pull your chestnuts out of the fire for you!”
“But sometimes the fire burns a fellow’s fingers, you know, Josie; and I’ve learned long ago not to worry you when—you’re not feeling well,” the deposed manager of Bar-S Ranch went on to say, perhaps a little more boldly than he might have dared had the distance separating him from the lady been less.
As if afraid that he had been too rash in saying so much Uncle Fred turned, and hurried away, calling out as he started:
“Better come along, Billie; plenty to look after for all of us who are left behind. You did your work well, and I want to tell you I’m glad you didn’t get—that is, your injuries are not worse than a skinned knee. There are more dreadful things that can happen, my boy, take it from me.”