"Don't say 'Yes, ma'am' all the time. You don't seem to be ashamed. Why should you be, though. Because you were fighting?"
"No, Miss Louise. Because I got licked."
Louise mounted Sarko and rode beside Collie silently. Presently she touched his arm. "But did you?" she asked, her eyes grave and her tone conveying a subtle question above the mere letter.
"No! By thunder!" he exclaimed. "Not in a hundred years!"
"Well, get some raw meat from the cook. I'll give your explanation to Dr. and Mrs. Marshall, for you will have to be ready for the trip to-morrow. You will have to think of a better explanation for the boys."
While riding homeward, Louise dropped her glove. Collie was afoot instantly and picked it up. "Can I keep it?" he said.
The girl looked curiously at him for a moment. "No, I think not, Collie," she said gently.
Collie rode up to the corrals that afternoon whistling as blithely as he could considering his injuries. He continued to whistle as he unsaddled Apache.
At the bunk-house Brand Williams looked at him once, and bent double with silent laughter. The boys badgered him unmercifully. "Fell off a hoss!—Go tell that to the chink!—Who stepped on your face, kid?—Been ridin' on your map, eh?—Where was the wreck?—Who sewed up your eye?"
"S-s-h-h, fellas," said Miguel, grinning. "If you make all that noise, how you going to hear the tune he is whistling, hey?"