"Do you wish to dispose of some of these, too?" the teller asked.
"No, thanks," said Apache Kid. "They go to an eastern market."
"An eastern market!" Did that mean that Apache Kid was going east? Was I to have his company home? Home I myself was going. But he—as I looked at his brown face, the alert eyes puckered at the side with long life in the sunshine, the lips close with much daring (and I think just a little hard), the jaws firm with much endurance, and that self-possessed bearing that one never sees in the civilised East, I knew he was not going back East.
The tiny gold ear-rings might be removed, but the stamp of the man could not; and men of that stamp are not seen in cities.
CHAPTER XXVIII
Apache Kid Behaves Strangely at the Half-Way
House to Kettle
ou hear people talk of the Autumn feeling in the air. Well, the Autumn feeling was in the air as we drove down through the rolling foothills to the Half-Way House.
My farewell to Mr. and Mrs. Laughlin had touched me deeply. It was only a word or two and a handshake, for when it comes to parting in the West, there is never any effusion—partings there are so frequent that people spare themselves the pain of them and make them brief. But nevertheless, they sting.
There was sunlight, to be sure, all the way; but that Autumn feeling was there. The sound of the wheels fell dead on the air, and we were all moody and quiet. I got it into my head that I was soon to say farewell to Apache Kid, and that forever. He was exceedingly thoughtful and silent, and I wondered if he was meditating on the suggestion of Mrs. Laughlin regarding the advisability of his settling down, asking Miss Pinkerton for her hand, and becoming a respectable person.