The stranger laughed. He had a pink-and-white complexion, and his laugh was mixed up with a vivid blush.
“Sakes alive!” muttered Pete dismally. “If ye had on a sunbunnit, ye’d look like er schoolgal.”
“You see,” and the stranger’s laugh became a trifle more masculine, “my name is Reginald——”
“Wow!” grunted Pete.
“De Bray, Reginald de Bray,” finished the speaker. “I don’t think there’s much in a name, you know, but everybody out in this country sort of pokes fun at mine.”
Lonesome Pete threw back his head, filled his lungs with air, and released his voice with a roaring “He-haw, he-haw!” after the fashion of a restive mule.
Chick Billings laughed.
Reginald de Bray pulled a little note-book from his pocket and made a mark in it with a lead-pencil.
“What’s that fur?” asked Chick Billings.
“I’m just keeping track,” answered the young man softly, as he put away the pencil and the book.