“I reckon yu' stopped mighty sudden?”
“Why, I'd been ridin' out with her—ridin' to school, ridin' from school, and a-comin' and a-goin', and she chattin' cheerful and askin' me a heap o' questions all about myself every day, and I not lyin' much neither. And so I figured she wouldn't mind. Lots of 'em like it. But she didn't, you bet!”
“No,” said the Virginian, deeply proud of his lady who had slighted him. He had pulled her out of the water once, and he had been her unrewarded knight even to-day, and he felt his grievance; but he spoke not of it to Lin; for he felt also, in memory, her arms clinging round him as he carried her ashore upon his horse. But he muttered, “Plumb ridiculous!” as her injustice struck him afresh, while the outraged McLean told his tale.
“Trample is what she has done on me to-night, and without notice. We was startin' to come here; Taylor and Mrs. were ahead in the buggy, and I was holdin' her horse, and helpin' her up in the saddle, like I done for days and days. Who was there to see us? And I figured she'd not mind, and she calls me an exception! Yu'd ought to've just heard her about Western men respectin' women. So that's the last word we've spoke. We come twenty-five miles then, she scootin' in front, and her horse kickin' the sand in my face. Mrs. Taylor, she guessed something was up, but she didn't tell.”
“Miss Wood did not tell?”
“Not she! She'll never open her head. She can take care of herself, you bet!” The fiddles sounded hilariously in the house, and the feet also. They had warmed up altogether, and their dancing figures crossed the windows back and forth. The two cow-punchers drew near to a window and looked in gloomily.
“There she goes,” said Lin.
“With Uncle Hughey again,” said the Virginian, sourly. “Yu' might suppose he didn't have a wife and twins, to see the way he goes gambollin' around.”
“Westfall is takin' a turn with her now,” said McLean.
“James!” exclaimed the Virginian. “He's another with a wife and fam'ly, and he gets the dancin', too.”