He nodded.
“Pretty good,” said he. “Reminds me of some of the afternoons we used to have in the foot-hills when they were dragging the railroads over them, and through them, and alongside of them.”
“Mr. Campe has been telling me of some of your experiences,” said she, her beautiful face filled with interest. “It must have been a very wild life, there in the West in those days.”
“It was all of that,” replied Bat, as he trudged along beside the grey. “Wild is the word that just fits it. A fellow had to sleep with his guns in his hands and a call for help in his mouth. We had some fine, enterprising lads out that way. They’d go for anything, and stop at nothing. But,” with a sigh, “it was tame enough before I pulled out. Things seemed to have shifted, somehow.”
“In what way?” asked Miss Knowles.
“The West having taken to growing grain and feeding sheep, the East seems to be providing the excitement necessary for the country’s good,” stated the big man, calmly. “For example: I’ve see more little proceedings around this village of Marlowe Furnace than I’ve seen in some frontier towns with the hardest kind of names.”
“You refer to what happened yesterday in the vaults,” said Miss Knowles. “Yes, that must have been quite thrilling.”
“It was also a bit dangerous,” said Bat, stoically. “I don’t object to being shot at, mind you; but I do want to see the party that’s got the matter in hand. This having surprise packages dealt one in the dark is carrying the matter too far.”
Miss Knowles smiled.
“No doubt,” she said, very calmly, “it seems rather awkward.” There was a pause, and she stroked the horse’s neck with her whip. “I suppose your friend was also startled,” she said.