Nevil looked long at that picture, and once or twice he licked his lips as though they were very dry. All the time Seth’s steady eyes were upon his 206 face, and the shadow of a smile was still about his lips.
At last Nevil looked up and Seth’s eyes held his. For a moment the two men sat thus. Then the wood-cutter handed back the photograph and shifted his gaze.
“I’ve never seen the original of that about these parts,” he said a little hoarsely.
“I didn’t figger you had,” Seth replied, rising and proceeding to tighten up the cinches of his saddle preparatory to departing. “The lawyer feller gave me that. Y’ see it’s an old pictur’. ’Tain’t as fancy as they do ’em now. Mebbe I’ll find him later on.”
He had swung into his saddle. Nevil had also risen as though to proceed with his work.
“It might be a good thing for him, since Rosebud is so well disposed,” Nevil laughed; he had almost recovered himself.
“That’s so,” observed Seth. “Or a mighty bad thing. Y’ can’t never tell how dollars ’ll fix a man. Dollars has a heap to answer for.”
And with this vague remark the plainsman rode slowly away.