Hilda was almost upon the verge of hysterics. She was inarticulate with rage and excitement. The thought of Sandy confiding in Cheerio that she was “stuck” on him was unendurable.
“Why so much excitement?” queried her father. “Do you realize that the flood of words you have unharnessed would have force and power enough, if attached to machinery, to run——”
“Do you think I’m going to stand for that—that—mutt accusing me of caring for a—coward?”
At that moment, a gentle cough at the door turned all eyes in its direction. Natty and clean, in his grey English suit—the one he had worn that first day he had come to O Bar O—Cheerio was standing in the room looking about him pleasantly at the circle of expressive faces. No sooner had the girl’s angry glance crossed his own friendly one, than out popped the despised word:
“Cheerio!” said Cheerio.
His glance rested deeply upon Hilda for a moment, and then quietly withdrew. Sandy, whose allegiance to his former hero and oracle had been somewhat shattered by the corral incidents, suddenly grinned at his friend and favoured him with a knowing wink.
“Aw, she’s hot under the collar just ’cause I told her I told you about her being stuck on you.”
“I—I—just fancy me stuck on him! Just as if any one could be stuck on someone they—they—despised and hated and——”
The words were pouring out breathlessly from the almost sobbing Hilda. Cheerio regarded her gravely and then looked away. At sight of the upturned chess table, he whistled softly, stepped forward and set it in place. Stooping again, he picked up the scattered chessmen and then, to the amazement of all in that room, Cheerio calmly proceeded to set the men precisely in place upon the board. As he put the King, the Queen, the Bishop, the Knight and the Castles into their respective places, a curious expression, one of amazement not unmixed with joy, quivered over the weatherbeaten face of old P. D. McPherson. When the pawns were upon their squares, almost mechanically the Chess Champion of Western Canada pulled up his chair to the table. Over his glasses he peered up at the Englishman.
“You play chess, sir?”