Bartley's egoism was slightly deflated. Then Dorothy had come to town to buy a few trinkets, and not to find out how it fared with him.
"We have to get back before dark," she declared.
"And you got to drive," said Little Jim. "I want to try my new gun!"
"Did you thank Mr. Bartley for the gun?"
Little Jim admitted that he had forgotten to do so. He stuck out his small hand. "Thanks, pardner," he said heartily.
Bartley laughed and patted Jimmy's shoulder--something that Jimmy utterly detested, but suffered nobly, under the circumstances.
"You earned that gun--and thank you for fetching Miss Dorry to town."
"Huh! I didn't fetch her. She fetched me. Uncle Frank was comin', but Dorry said she just had to get some things--"
"Jimmy, please don't point that gun at the horses."
Bartley felt better. He didn't know just why he felt better. Yet he felt more than grateful to Little Jim.