“You can spread it all up and down the river that I’m living here under an assumed name, and you may tell them anything else–all that is true–that you think you ought to tell, just as soon as you want to begin,” she said, rising and moving away from him in scorn. “I’ll not help you; I couldn’t help you if I would.”
Boyle got up, his face in a scowl, and as she retreated toward her tent, followed her in his peggy, forward-tilting cowboy walk.
“Say,” he hailed, unveiling at once all the rudeness of his character, “come back here a minute and take your medicine!”
She paused while he came up. 226
“Jerry,” said Agnes gently, turning upon him eyes full of sadness and lost hope, “get on your horse and go away. Don’t force me to think worse of you than I have thought. Go away, Jerry; go away!”
Boyle’s face was flushed, and his naturally pop-eyed expression was greatly aggravated by his anger. It seemed that his eyes were straining to leap out, and had forced themselves forward until the whites showed beyond the lids.
“Yes, that Slavens is one of these men that’d eat hot rocks for the woman he loves,” he sneered. “Well, it’s up to him to show how far he’ll go for you.”
“It’s unworthy of even you, Jerry, to talk like that,” she reproved. “As far as I know, I am nothing more to Dr. Slavens than any other friend. If you want his claim, why don’t you go down there and buy it, as you were ready to buy it from Peterson if you could have filed him on it?”
“Because I can get it cheaper,” said Boyle. “I’ll not give him ten cents for it. It’s your job to go and tell him that I want him to go over to Meander and pay up on that land, and I’ll furnish the money for it, but before he pays he must sign a relinquishment to me.”
“I’ll not do it!” she declared.