"There was very little trouble," he announced. "Mavy's friends kept the toughs off, and I believe he'll sell out everything he has in his wagon."
"And Custer?"
"I don't think he can see quite as well as he could an hour ago—as one result," replied Farquhar dryly.
Then he flicked the team, and they drove on faster into the dusk that was creeping up across the prairie.
The next morning Alison was standing in the sunshine outside the house when Thorne drove into sight from behind the barn which cut off the view of one strip of prairie. He got down from his wagon and appeared disconcerted when he saw the girl, who fancied that she understood the reason, for he had a discolored bruise on one cheek and a lump on his forehead.
"I want a few words with Farquhar," he explained. "I saw him at the settlement last night, but I couldn't get hold of him."
"No," returned Alison disdainfully, "you were too busy." Then something impelled her to add, "You don't seem a very great deal the worse for your exploit."
Thorne leaned against the side of the wagon, though she noticed that he first pulled the brim of his soft hat lower down over his face.
"That fact doesn't seem to cause you much satisfaction," he observed.
"Why should it?"