Bud smiled in spite of his fears. Catching the girl in his arms, he kissed her, and said: "I was a-waitin' for the chance."
Polly disengaged herself from his embrace, and sighed contentedly. "That's something like it. What's the use of bein' engaged to a feller if you can't have all the trimmin's that goes with it. You look as if you wasn't too happy."
Bud pulled himself together with an effort. He realized that if he did not show more interest in the girl and the wedding he might be suspected of connection with the murder.
He trumped up an explanation of his moodiness. "Well, what call have I to be happy? Ain't I lost my job?"
"Yes, but that's because you were hot-headed, gave your boss too much lip. But everything will come out all right. Jack says—"
"Has that low-down liar an' thief been comin' it over you, Polly? Did he tell you how he gave the place he promised me to Sage-brush?"
"That wasn't until you gave him slack, Bud. I'm sure he ain't a thief; why—"
"Thief, of course he is, an' a blacker-hearted one than the man that killed Terrill. Ain't he going to steal my brother Dick's girl this very night?"
"But Dick is dead," expostulated Polly.
"Dick ain't dead; I know it—that is," he stammered, "I feel it in my bones he ain't dead. An' Jack feels it, too; that's why he's hurried up this weddin'."