“A man that can knock a million out of a mountain can git along most anywheres, I guess. Wish I had your chance.”
“I’d hitch up to some smart gal in New York or London and start a family.”
Jim made a grimace.
“’Pears to me you ain’t strong on originality. I’d rather run a cattle ranch—they don’t talk back.”
“Gosh! man, wimmen’s all right if you know how to treat ’em. They’re like bosses, they want careful breakin’ in.”
Jim shook his head. He remembered the time when a girl from down East, on a holiday tour, had looked over his mine. Her eloquent blue eyes had made him feel decidedly sheepish. Colorado Jim, who had tackled most of the bad men around Medicine Bow, and had tamed the wildest bronchos that ever roved prairie, was lamentably lacking where the fair sex was concerned. He didn’t know what to do, what to say, or how to say it.
“Dan,” he said, “you hev to have a gift that way—an’ I ain’t got it.”
“My lad, you’ve got a figure and a ’physog’ that’ll sure turn every gal’s head that takes a slant at ’em.”