"But no—not to-night! For three days will it be like this! It is terrible! And you have been ill."
She pressed close to him and touched his arm. "Have I not been your friend?"
"You sure have! But honest, Boca, I got a hunch that it's time to fan it. 'T ain't that I'm sore at your old man now—or want to leave you—but I got a hunch somethin' is goin' to happen."
"You think only of that Malvey. You do not think of me," complained Boca.
"I'm sure thinkin' of you every minute. It ain't Malvey that's botherin' me now."
"Then why do you not rest—and wait?"
"Because restin' and waitin' is worse than takin" a chanct. I got to go."
"You must go?"
Pete nodded.
"But what if I will not find a horse for you?"