"That spoils my shooting now," Mose said to Haney. "I couldn't hit the side of a mule."
"Oh, you'll stiddy up after dinner."
"Good boy!" called the crisp voice of Mrs. Raimon. "Come here, I want to talk with you."
He could not decently refuse to go to the side of her carriage. She had with her a plain woman, slightly younger than herself, who passed for her niece. The two men who came with them were in the judge's stand.
Leaning over, she spoke with sudden intensity. "My God! you mustn't take such risks—I'm all of a quiver. You're too good a man to be killed by a miserable bucking broncho. Don't do it again, for my sake—if that don't count, for her sake." And he in sudden joy and confidence replied: "That's just why I did it; for her sake."
Her eyes set in sudden alarm. "What do you mean?"
"You'll know in a day or two. I'm going to quit my job."
"I know," she said with a quick indrawn breath, "you're going away. Who's that girl I saw you talking with to-day? Is that the one?"
He laughed at her for the first time. "Not by a thousand miles."
"What do you mean by that? Does she live in Chicago?"