“Yes, of course. But—you have your own—stock to see to?”
She felt quite pleased with her cunning. But her pleasure was short-lived.
“Sure,” he returned, with disarming frankness.
“It really doesn’t seem fair that you should have the double work,” she went on, with another attempt to penetrate his reserve.
Buck’s smile was utterly baffling. He walked to the door of the barn and gave a prolonged, low whistle. Then he came back.
“It sure wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t,” he said simply.
“But you must have heaps to do on your—farm,” Joan went on, feeling that she was on the right track at last “Look at what you’re doing for me. These horses, the cattle, the—the pigs and things. I’ve no doubt you have much more to see to of your own.”
At that moment the head of Cæsar appeared in the doorway. He stared round the familiar stable evidently searching for his master. Finally catching sight of him, he clattered in to the place and rubbed his handsome head against Buck’s shoulder.
“This is my stock,” Buck said, affectionately rubbing the creature’s nose. “An’ I generally manage to see to him while the kettle’s boilin’ for breakfast.”