"If Sadie were here----" Bud had removed himself to a respectful distance, and was now glaring at Jeff, and rubbing his bruised shoulder.
"I wish she was, I wish she was. You were saying, Bud----"
"I was saying that if Sadie were here, she'd fix you mighty quick."
"Would she? God bless her!" He stared sentimentally at the photograph.
"Yes, she would. She'd let you know that a girl may be round--an' soft--an' innocent--and a holy terror, too, when a big, blundering galoot of a dep'ty-sheriff talks o' loving somebody to whom he's never been introduced, and never likely to be, neither."
Jeff looked up in amazement.
"Why, Bud; why, sonny--ye're real mad! Why, you silly little whipper- snapper, ye don't think I'd talk that way if the young lady was around. Great Scot! Look ye here! Now--now I ain't goin' to hurt ye any. Come nearer. Ye won't? Well, then, don't! But, strictly between ourselves, I'll tell ye something, although it's agen myself. If your sister was here, right now, I--I'm so doggoned bashful--I wouldn't have a word to say--that's a fact."
"I wish she were here," said Bud, savagely.
"Now, Bud; that's a real nasty one. Ye don't mean that. Did I hurt yer shoulder, sonny?"
"Hurt it? I'll bet it's black and blue most already."