"Fer good."
"Fer our good, you mean. There's too many of his kind comin' into this country. Did you hear about 'Ole Man' Terrill?"
Bud did not wait for her to explain, but nervously answered: "They told us about it in Florence when we were coming through, We've been at the Lazy K."
"Wasn't it dreadful?" rattled on Polly. "Slim's here—the boys are goin' to turn out with him after the weddin' to see if they can ketch the feller who did the killin'."
Bud paled as he heard the news. To conceal his distress he moved toward the door. Anywhere to get away from the girl to whom he feared he would betray himself. "I'll join 'em," he huskily answered.
Polly, however, could see no reason for his evident haste to leave her.
She felt hurt, but thought his actions were due to her scolding him for being with McKee.
"You ain't ever ast me how I look," she inquired, seeking to detain him.
"You look fine," complimented Bud perfunctorily.
"W'en a feller ain't seen a feller in a week, seems like a feller ought to brace up and start something," replied Polly, in an injured tone.