His eyes were glowing with an amused light, and a pleasant smile played upon his lips.
The girl, who had listened curiously, now laughed in welcome. “There aren’t many places between here and Dry Lake,” she said; “and I guess it would be a pretty hot ride to-day. You can water your horse––and feed him at the barn, if you wish––and I’ll get you something to eat, if you’re not particular.” Her eyes danced merrily.
“Ma’am!” he exclaimed, with mock severity, “I quit bein’ particular when I was––when I was as young as that youngster.”
A boy of ten or twelve had appeared beside the girl.
“Young man, what’re those dirt-looking spots on your face?” asked the stranger, frowning with his eyes but smiling with his lips.
“They ain’t dirt spots!” returned the boy with spirit, advancing a step.
“No?” said the man, feigning intense astonishment. “What are they?”
“They’re freckles,” answered the boy stoutly.
“Oh––oh, that’s what they are,” said the stranger with a delighted laugh. “Won’t they wash off?”
“Naw. You can’t fool me. You knew what they were!”