“Oh, that one! I’m talking about the woman at the farm.”
“And—the one on the hill over there?”
“Oh! Well, he fired at me and I fired back. That’s all.”
With an air of exaggerated indifference Tish swaggered into the cave and took off her overshoes.
“Hurry up supper, Ag,” she said—never before or since has she called Aggie “Ag”—“I’m starving.”
She said she had heard little or nothing. She had found the farmhouse, had bought her supplies from a surly woman and had come away again. Asked by Mr. Muldoon if she had seen any men, she said she had seen a farmhand milking. That was all, except the outlaw on the hill.
But under her calmness Tish was terribly excited. I could tell it by her glittering eyes and the red spot in each cheek. Manlike, Mr. Muldoon did not see these signs; he ate very little and sat watching her, fascinated. Only once, however, did he broach the subject.
“I had no idea you were such a shot, Miss Letitia,” he said. “It—that was a marvel.”
“Oh, I shoot a little,” said Tish coolly. “Only for my own amusement, of course.”
Mr. Muldoon made no reply. He was very thoughtful all evening, did not care to play whist, and watched Tish whenever he could, furtively.