"Very likely!" she returned; "sounds plausible. You might offer to marry me," she suggested when he failed to answer. "You could gain full possession at once that way."
He removed his gaze from the fire and looked long at her.
"It will likely come to that," he said.
"I'll put a weapon in your hands," she retorted. "Whenever it does come to that I'll leave the ranch—so now you know the one sure way to win."
"I hope it won't pan out like that," he said. "I'll be disappointed—more than I can say."
She rose and stood waiting for him to go.
"Good night, Billie," he said. "I expect maybe things will break all right for us."
She did not answer and he went out. Waddles hailed him in friendly fashion as he passed through the cookhouse, then wiped his hands and stepped into Billie's quarters. Waddles was a fixture at the Three Bar; he had ridden for her father until he had his legs smashed up by a horse and had thereafter reigned as cook. He was confidential adviser and self-appointed guardian of the girl. His mind was still pleasantly concerned with the stranger's warm praise of his culinary efforts.
"That new man now, Billie," he remarked. "He's away off ahead of the average run. You mark me—he'll be top hand with this outfit in no time at all." Then he observed the girl's expression. "What is it, Pet?" he inquired. "What's a-fretting you?"
"Do you know who he is?" she asked.