“Hold it!” he exclaimed. “Oh, no use—gone again.”
“Eh?” Her gaze widened. “What?”
“Those dimples. How long is this camp to continue?”
“Until the first of the week.” Nelly Callahan was disconcerted by his abrupt change of subject and forgot to resent the personality. “Father’s rounding up some cattle and counting how many there are here.”
“Good! Then I’ll be over to the dance next Thursday night. May I take you?”
She was startled by his words. She was more startled a moment later when a crashing of brush sounded, and she leaped to her feet.
“Oh! Father’s coming—”
“Answer the question,” persisted Hardrock. “Quick!”
“Yes,” she said, and then turned swiftly to him. “Go quickly—”
“Nonsense!” Hardrock puffed at his pipe. “Nothing to get excited about. I’m not going to start any trouble, I promise you. Great Scott! Is that your father?”