"I can't seem to think of words with which to thank you, Miss Gallegher," he said with feeling.
"Suppose you don't try," she returned. "And while we're by ourselves out here in the wide-open suppose you call me 'Flame.' All my friends do and after all we've been through I rather reckon we're friends."
In this proposal she was as ingenuous as a child and it hit him hard—mostly around the heart. With uncalled for caution, he tried to keep from showing how pleased he was.
"I will if you'll swap, Flame of Fire Weed," he offered and wondered at his nerve in proposing a bargain to such as she.
"Swap—swap what?" she asked.
"Easy names—you call me Jack when we're alone."
"That day up in Strathconna, when you beat me to the section you now call the Open A, I was prepared to hate you and help the boys make life in the Fire Weed country miserable. But I've sort of changed 'round, haven't I, Jack. I think you have a way with women, Mr. Jack."
"You certain have with me—men," he returned quickly. "Your arrival to-day was an unexpected deliverance, and the source of it beyond my wildest dreams. I'm going to make something out of that narrow escape, though. The threatened branding has given me an idea. Can you keep a secret, Flame?"
"What woman can't?" she taunted.
"Have you any idea how they meant to brand me—I mean with what ensignia?"