“Say, Peter, this is bully,” he cried, shaking the big man’s hand. “I didn’t guess you’d be coming along in. Who’s that with you? Eh? Oh, Elia.”
Peter nodded. But his usual smile was lacking.
“Yes. Eve’s just coming along. Ah, here she is,” he added, as the girl suddenly appeared in the doorway. “Come in, my dear,” he went on kindly. “Guess we caught Jim before he got down for the night.”
Jim offered the girl no greeting. All thought of formalities was driven from his mind at the sight of her expression. The hunted look in her eyes was even greater than it had been two days ago, and he wondered what fresh development had brought it about. He was not long left in doubt. Peter eyed him ruefully, and then glanced at the door which was still open.
“It’s trouble, Jim, fresh trouble, so––I guess I’ll shut this door tight.”
While he was doing so, Jim pushed the chair toward Eve, into which she almost fell. Then he glanced at Elia, speculating. As Peter returned to the group he dropped back and seated himself on the rough bed, waiting for enlightenment. Peter leaned himself against the table, his grizzled face frowning thoughtfully.
“I’m needing a horse to-night––now,” he said. “An’ he’s got to do sixty miles between this and sundown to-morrow. I want yours. Can I have it?”
The man’s shrewd blue eyes were steadily fixed on Jim’s face. He was putting all his knowledge of the ranchman to the test in his own subtle way. He was asking this man to help him against himself. He was asking this man to help him prevent his removing the unmerited suspicion with which he was branded. But he intended to do it openly, frankly. And his reason was because he understood a good deal of human nature, and of Jim Thorpe particularly.
“You can have him. What for?”