“Of course; I wouldn’t want to trespass on anybody’s territory. Are they all disagreeable people over that way?”
“There’s nobody there but the Halls and Carlson. You know Swan.”
“He might improve on close acquaintance,” Mackenzie speculated.
“I don’t think he’s as bad as the Halls, wild and crazy as he is. Hector Hall, especially. But you may get on with them, all right––I don’t want to throw any scare into you before you meet them.”
“Are they out looking for trouble?”
“I don’t know as they are, but they’re there to make it if anybody lets a sheep get an inch over the line they 61 claim as theirs. Oh, well, pass ’em up till you have to meet them––maybe they’ll treat you white, anyway.”
Again a silence stood between them, Mackenzie considering many things, not the least of them being this remarkable girl’s life among the sheep and the rough characters of the range, no wonder in him over her impatience to be away from it. It seemed to him that Tim Sullivan might well spare her the money for schooling, as well as fend her against the dangers and hardships of the range by keeping her at home these summer days.
“It looks to me like a hard life for a girl,” he said; “no diversions, none of the things that youth generally values and craves. Don’t you ever have any dances or anything––camp meetings or picnics?”
“They have dances over at Four Corners sometimes––Hector Hall wanted me to go to one with him about a year ago. He had his nerve to ask me, the little old sheep-thief!”
“Well, I should think so.”