The sheriff in the cab took off his hat to Miss Buckner, remarking that she should belong to the force; and as the bell rang and the engine moved, off popped young Billy Lusk from his cow-catcher. With an exclamation of horror she sprang down, and Mr. McLean appeared, and, with all a parent's fright and rage, held the boy by the arm grotesquely as the sheriff steamed by.
“I ain't a-going to chase it,” said young Billy, struggling.
“I've a mind to cowhide you,” said Lin.
But Miss Buckner interposed. “Oh, well,” said she, “next time; if he does it next time. It's so late to-night! You'll not frighten us that way again if he lets you off?” she asked Billy.
“No,” said Billy, looking at her with interest. “Father 'd have cowhided me anyway, I guess,” he added, meditatively.
“Do you call him father?”
“Ah, father's at Laramie,” said Billy, with disgust. “He'd not stop for your asking. Lin don't bother me much.”
“You quit talking and step up there!” ordered his guardian. “Well, m'm, I guess yu' can sleep good now in there.”
“If it was only an 'L. and N.' I'd not have a thing against it! Good-night, Mr. McLean; good-night, young Mr.—”
“I'm Billy Lusk. I can ride Chalkeye's pinto that bucked Honey Wiggin.”