They moved out and stood at the door in full view of the house. The evening was drawing in. The sun was on the horizon, and the purple night shades were rising out over the eastern sky.
“Arizona,” Tresler said a little later, “I’ve got an unpleasant task before me. I’ve just seen Marbolt pass the window of his den. I want a few words with him. I think I’ll go now.”
“’Bout the leddy?” inquired the cowpuncher.
“You’ve struck it.”
“Wal, git right along. I’d sooner it wus you than me, I guess. Howsum, I’ll set right hyar. Mebbe I’ll be handy ef you’re wantin’ me.”
Tresler laughed. “Oh, it’s all right,” he said. “I’m not dealing with Jake.”
“Nope,” replied the other, settling himself on a saddle-tree. Then, after a thoughtful pause, “which is regret’ble.”
Tresler walked away in the direction of the house. He was weak, and did the journey slowly. Nor did he feel comfortable. However, he was doing what he knew to be right, and, as he ruefully reminded himself, it was seldom pleasant to do one’s duty. His object was simply a matter of form, but one which omitted would give Marbolt reason for saying things. Besides, in justice to Danny and himself he must ask her father’s consent to their engagement. And as he thought of the uselessness of it he laughed bitterly to himself. Did not the rancher know? And had he not fully explained his views on the matter?
Arizona watched Tresler wabbling unsteadily toward the house and applied many mental epithets of an uncomplimentary nature on his “foolheadedness.” Then he was joined by Joe, who had also observed Tresler’s visit.
The little man waved a hand in the direction of the retreating figure.