This was a falsehood. Daddy John and Leff had been the hunters of the party. But Susan did not care. Courant had never said a word in her hearing derogatory to David, but she had her suspicions that the romantic nature of her betrothed was not of the stuff the mountain man respected.
"First rate," he said heartily. "I didn't know it. I thought he generally rode with you or drove the wagon."
To an outsider the tone would have seemed all that was frank and open. But Susan read irony into it. She sat her horse a little squarer and allowed the muse to still further possess her:
"David can shoot anything, an antelope even. He constantly brought them in when we were on the Platte. It was quite easy for him. Daddy John, who's been in all sorts of wild places, says he's never seen a better shot."
A slight uneasiness disturbed the proud flow of her imagination at the thought that Daddy John, questioned on this point, might show a tendency to contradict her testimony. But it didn't matter. The joy of proving David's superiority compensated. And she was setting Courant in his place which had a separate and even rarer charm.
His answer showed no consciousness of the humbling process:
"You think a lot of David, don't you?"
Susan felt her color rising. This time she not only sat squarer in her saddle, but raised her shoulders and chin a trifle.
"Yes. I am engaged to be married to him."
"When will you be married?" said the uncrushable man.