"'Put your foot on the lines and they'll make. That's the main and only art of driving on the prairie—not to let the lines get under the horses' feet—all the rest is just sit still and look at the scenery.'
"She held my hat for a wind-break, and I got my paper pipe together. And then—not a match. I searched every pocket. Not a lucifer. That is more of what I got for being funny and changing my clothes. And then she happened to think of a box she had for travelling, and fished it out of her grip.
"'Young lady,' I says, 'until it comes to be your bad luck—which I hope won't ever happen—to be very much in love with a man who won't play back, you'll never properly know the pangs of a man that's got all the materials to smoke with except the fire. Now, if I have a chance to do as much for you sometime, I'm there.'
"She laughed and crinkled up her eyes at me. 'All right, Mr. Saunders. When that obdurate man disdains me, I'll call for your help.'
"'The place for the man that would disdain you is an asylum,' says
I. 'And the only help I'd give you would be to put him there.'
She blushed real nice. I like to see a woman blush. It's a trick
they can't learn.
"But I see she was put out by my easy talk, so I gave her a pat on the back and says, 'Don't mind me, little girl. We fellers see an eighteen-carat woman so seldom that it goes to our heads. There wasn't no offence meant, and you'll be foolish if you put it there. Let's shake hands.'
"So she laughed again and shook. I mean shook. It wasn't like handing you so much cold fish—the way some women shake hands. And Loys and me, we were full pards from date.
"I made one more bad break on the home trip.
"'Jonesy will be powerful glad to see you,' says I.
"'Jonesy!' says she, surprised. 'Jonesy! Oh, is that what you call Uncle Albert?'