“Just like him, Fan; very few words he ever wastes. Ah, sister, we don’t have such men out East.”
“So the stage-driver told me,” said Fanny, demurely.
“There, Fan, you’re poking fun now. Wait till I get through. Only for Tom, you would have found me at Ten Mile Gulch, hanging by the neck to the limb of that tree just in front of the Home.”
“Hanging, Jack?”
“Hanging, Fan—lynched for a murder I never committed. Tom came along just in the nick of time, and—Well, Fan, perhaps you saw some of the Ten Milers before you came away?”
“Yes, Jack; and there was only one whole nose in the lot, and I do believe that was out of joint. But, oh, Jack! if they had taken your life!”
“Never mind now, sis. Tom was too many for ’em; and here I am safe. We’ll wait here till Tom comes down, for I’ve got one of his horses, which he thinks more of than he does of himself; then for home, sis.”
Mr. Tom Ruger went down, as he said he would, and remained with them several days. On the morning that they were to sail, Fanny said to Tom:
“I wish you were going with us, Mr. Ruger. We shall miss you very much. Won’t you go?”
Mr. Ruger was talking with Jack at the time, but he heard Fanny—he always heard what she said.