Letts puffed out his chest and struck it with a loud resounding whack.
"I air glad of that," he grinned. "It sounds good to me, you bet. I don't want no other man palaverin' over my woman. I got—"
"An' you been makin' me mad lately, too, Sandy," Tess interrupted, "what with runnin' after me an' makin' me fight to keep my own kisses, I don't have no peace. Now, I'll tell ye what I'll do. You get busy an' find Andy Bishop, an' git that five thousand, then ye come here again an' ask me what ye just did, an' ye see what I say to ye. Eh? How'd that suit ye?"
A scarlet flush rushed over Lett's swarthy skin.
"But ye got to promise me ye won't ever try fer no more kisses, till I git married to ye, Sandy," Tess continued. "You said what you wanted; now, I've said somethin', an' I mean it too."
Letts shifted one large boot along a crack in the floor. He was thinking deeply.
"That's pretty tough on a feller when he air lovin' a girl the way I love you, brat," he said after a while.
"But ye got to promise what I want ye to, Sandy, or mebbe I'll git married to some 'un else."
"Ye'd better not, kid," he muttered darkly, "if ye don't want to git yerself an' the other fellow into trouble."
"Then ye'd best promise 'bout the kisses," returned Tess, decidedly.