"You did!"
"Yes, I did—say what you please, do what you please. It was my only hope, and I took it. I told her I was hunting for you—and my purpose. In return I got only this," and he handed toward Genesee a sheet of paper with one line written across it. "You see—your address, nothing more. But, Jack, can't you see it would not have been sent if she had not wished—"
"That's enough!" broke in the other. "I reckon I've given you all the time I have to spare this morning, Mister. You're likely to strike better luck in some different direction than talking sentiment and the state of your feelings to me. I've been acquainted with them before—pretty much—and don't recollect that the effect was healthy."
"Jack, you will do what I ask?"
"Not this morning, sonny," answered the other, still with that altogether aggressive taunt in his tone. "I would go back to the ranch if I was you, and by this time to-morrow some of them may make you forget the favor you want this morning. So long!"
And with this suggestion to his guest to vacate, he turned his back, sat down by the fire, and began filling a pipe.
"All right; I'll go, and in spite of your stubbornness, with a lighter heart than I carried here, for I've made you understand that I want to make amends, and that I have not been all a liar; that I want to win back the old faith you all had in me; and, Jack, if my head has gone wrong, something in my heart forbade me to have content, and that has been my only hope for myself. For I have a hope, and a determination, Jack, and as for anyone helping me to forget—well, you are wrong there; one woman might do it—for a while—I acknowledge that, but I am safe in knowing she would rather help me to remember."
Genesee wheeled about quickly.
"Have you dared—"
"No, I have not told her, if that is what you mean; why—why should I?"