"I wish you may," said Polly heartily. "You sure acted mighty fine about that Peruna insultin' Mrs. Payson."
Harshly as Polly had felt toward Buck, his actions in the recent incidents had softened her feelings toward him.
"I admire to hear you say it," said Buck, bowing. "I've played square with women all my life. I ain't never slipped a card nor rung in a cold deck on any one of 'em yet."
Buck sat down on the step of the wagon. He hesitated for a moment, and then asked: "Say, did you ever have a premonition?"
"Nope! The worst I ever had was the hookin'-cough."
Buck smiled, but did not explain to Polly the meaning of the word.
"Well, this premonition," he continued, "hits me hard, an' that's what makes me start for home. Thought I'd like to say good-by to you an' Bud. I go north with the big drive in the mornin', an' won't see you ag'in."
"Well, good luck and good-by to you." Polly held out her hand in her most friendly fashion.
Buck arose and took off his hat. As he stepped toward her, he cried: "Same to you. Good-by." Grasping her by the hand, he added warmly: "An'—happiness."
"I'll tell Bud you're here," cried Polly over her shoulder.