One of the farmers' wives, a pale, anemic creature who had sidled next to Nettie, whispered:
"Don't chu go with him, Nettie. He ain't no good."
As the eye of the Bull fell upon her, the woman quailed and, in a panic, she said aloud:
"Mrs. Langdon's the kindes' woman in this country. You'd be workin' for a good woman, Nettie. You're a lucky girl to get the chance."
All that Nettie was thinking then was that Cyril Stanley worked for the Bar Q. She would be near Cyril; they would meet, perhaps, daily. That thought sent her toward Bull Langdon with a hopeful light in the eyes she raised shyly, though fearfully, toward him.
"I'll go, Mr. Langdon," said Nettie Day. "I got to get a place anyway, and I might as well go along with you."
The Bull withdrew his glance. Finger up again he summoned his "hands."
"Round up them dogies, you Buzz. You, Batt, bring along the pigs in the wagon. Damn you, Block, git them horses back. Where in the h—— d'yer think we're rangin'? You, Boob, roll off o' your horse there. Saddle that pinto for the gell. Here, tighter on the cinch. Shorten them stirrups. Here, gell!"
His big hand went under her arm, helping her to mount the horse, but it closed over the smooth yielding flesh, pressing it hard. As he tested the length of the stirrups, he looked up into her face with such an expression that she was suddenly filled with alarm and terror. His big hand continued to tug at the stirrup strap, his arm pressing against her knee, and she said hastily: