“Oh!” A trace of anger flamed in the girl’s eyes. “I’d like to shake you——”
“I’d sure like to have you,” Robinson said with a grin. “Go ahead, ma’am!”
Instead, Stella settled back in her chair and regarded him narrowly.
“What kind of a game are you playing, anyway?” she demanded.
“None whatever. Me, I’m a innercent pilgrim, a stranger, plumb peaceable,” and his grin was more exasperating than ever. “As I remember it, Sam Fisher sold an option on the place, and the feller was coming up to look it over. He had your power of attorney to sell, but seemed like you had to consent to the deal.”
“I had!” repeated the astonished girl. “Why, nothing of the sort! I wrote Sam that he had full power——”
“Sure, sure, but this was different. Seems like this feller wanted you to go with the ranch,” averred Robinson innocently.
Stella looked at him a moment, then sprang to her feet. “What do you mean? How dare you! Oh, I wish I knew when you were serious! Who bought the place? Tell me!”
“Feller name of Robinson—Jack Robinson. Got any objections?”
They looked at each other for half a minute, a slow tide of color sweeping over the face of the girl. As she was about to speak, there came an interruption: