Payson smiled. He knew he was in for a thorough hazing by the boys. "That's all right. I'll get back at you some day—when you and Bud—"
Polly interrupted him with a remark about minding his own business.
Bud avoided entering into the conversation. He had walked toward the door and was standing on the steps when he answered for Polly.
"Looks as if you're chances of gettin' even with us is a long way off," he said. Turning, he entered the house, to join the other guests who, by the noise, were enjoying Allen's importations from Tucson to the bottom of every glass.
Polly looked after Bud, smiling quizzically. "Bud's mighty hopeful, ain't he? Ain't you happy?"
"You bet! Don't I look it?" cried Jack, rubbing his hands. "Never thought I could be so happy. A fellow doesn't get married every day in the week."
"Not unless he lives in Chicago; I hear it's the habit there," answered Polly.
"The sweetest girl in the Territory—" began Jack.
"You bet she is," Polly broke in. "If you just want to keep her lovin' and lovin' you—all you've got to do is to treat her white and play square with her."
"Play square with her," thought Payson. Was he playing square with her? He knew that he was not, but the chance of losing her was too great for him to risk.