“Hardly that, of course.”
“You’re wishin’ I wasn’t with you?”
“Your society is very pleasant,” was his gallant statement; “but you will admit that this is hardly the sort of country where a woman can feel safe.”
“And that’s why I’m goin’ to hang to ye. You can’t git rid of me. I’ll cling to ye like the bark on a tree, and you can’t help it. Fer, ye see, you’re huntin’ road agents, and so am I. And if you find ’em, and I’m with ye, why, I’ll find ’em, too. And that’s what I want.”
He smiled into the firelight.
“I thought you were of the opinion that I was a fake, and you meant to cling to me for the purpose of finding out?”
“Well, that is one reason,” she admitted, with blunt frankness. “If you ain’t the reel Buffler Bill, why, I want to know that, too. And then I’ll be makin’ things mighty int’restin’ fer ye.”
She laughed again, sliding from her stern grimness and threatening into laughing good humor.
“I’ll watch a while, if ye want to sleep,” she said. “I’ve had my forty winks, and can git along now till morning.”
The scout felt sure that he could trust this woman not to harm him in his sleep. She still mystified him, and he could not yet fathom her purpose in being there; for he did not credit her with all the motives she professed. However, he trusted her, and so after a while he lay down for a time, leaving Pizen Jane on guard by the dying camp fire.