Hazel sat herself upon the edge of his desk, and flicked the rawhide quirt against the leg of her top boot. Her prairie hat was thrust back from her forehead, and her pretty tanned face was turned in a smiling inquiry upon Gordon.
"What is it?" she asked, with that new alertness the man had come to regard as a part of her nature, second only to her delightful camaraderie.
He smiled back into her merry eyes.
"I'm wondering why two men bent on a joint purpose can't see the same thing in the same light."
"Which means you and my daddy have already started an argument which I'll have to settle."
Gordon laughed.
"Guess you'll settle it, though—there's no need."
"Why not? If you can't agree?"
"We do agree."
"Then where's the argument?"