He watched her narrowly and noted the little blush that marked the landing of his apparently random shot.
“I've been away on my first vacation, went up to Yosemite Valley. I got back last night.”
“Glad of it” replied Mr. Hennage heartily. “Enjoy yourself?”
“It was glorious.”
He talked with her for a few minutes, then waddled to his favorite seat and ordered his ham and eggs.
“Well, she didn't fib to me, at any rate, even if she didn't tell the whole truth” he soliloquized. “But what's chewin' the soul out o' me is this: 'How in Sam Hill did they make fifty dollars go that far?' If I was gettin' married, fifty dollars wouldn't begin to pay for the first round o' drinks.”
It had not escaped the gambler's observing eye that Donna had been crying, so immediately after breakfast Mr. Hennage strolled over to the feed corral, leaned his arms on the top rail and carefully scanned the herd of horses within.
Bob McGraw's little roan cayuse was gone!
“Well, if that don't beat the Dutch!” exclaimed Mr. Hennage disgustedly. “If that young feller ain't one fool of a bridegroom, a-runnin' away from his bride like this! For quick moves that feller's got the California flea faded to a whisper. Two weeks ago he was a-practicin' law in Sacramento, a-puttin' through a deal in lieu lands; then he jumps to Stockton an' wires me for fifty dollars; then he hops to Bakersfield an' gits married, after which he lands in the Yosemite Valley on his honeymoon. From there he jumps to San Pasqual, an' from San Pasqual he fades away into the desert an' leaves his bride at home a-weepin' an' a-cryin'. I don't understand this business nohow, an' I'll be dog-goned if I'm a-goin' to try. It's too big an order.”
Three days later Harley P. Hennage wished that he had not been so inquisitive. That glance into the feed corral was to cost him many a pang and many a dollar; for, with rare exceptions, there is no saying so true as this: that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.