"That ain't fair!" blurted Little Jim. "I ain't nobody's beau. Shucks! Now you gone and spoiled all the fun."
"I was only teasing you, Jimmy." And she patted Little Jim's tousled head. He wriggled away and smoothed down his hair.
"I can beat you shootin' at tin cans," he said suddenly, to change the subject.
Shooting at tin cans was much more interesting than talking about beaux.
"I have to help Aunt Jane get supper," said Dorothy, who had been invited to stay for supper that evening. In fact, she was often at the Hastings ranch, a more than welcome guest.
Jimmy scowled. Dorry was always helping Aunt Jane make dresses or trim hats, or get supper. A few minutes later Little Jim was out back of the barn, scowling over the sights of his twenty-two at a tomato can a few yards away. He fired and punctured the can.
"Plumb center!" he exclaimed. "You think you're her beau, do you? Well, that's what you get. And if I see you around this here ranch, just even lookin' at her, I'll plug you again." Jimmy was romancing, with the recently discussed subject of beaux in mind.
When Little Jim informed the household that his father and another man were coming over, that evening, Uncle Frank asked who the other man was. Little Jim described Bartley and told about the wonderful Luger gun.
"My dad is huntin' his hosses," he said. "And I know who's got 'em!"
"Was the other man a deputy?" queried Uncle Frank.