“Go away!” sobbed the prostrated man. “Go away! Take my pony––all! Only leave me!” 43
“If ever I saw a fellow plumb locoed!” muttered Gowan, half awe-struck.
“Maybe he’ll come to his senses if we leave him,” suggested Knowles. He took a step towards Ashton. “All right, son, we’ll go. But we’ll leave you half that veal, and we won’t take your hawss. D’you want help in looking for your outfit?”
Ashton shook his downbent head.
“Well, if you want to let the thieves get away with it, that’s your own lookout. You’d better strike back to the railroad.”
“Go away! Leave me!” moaned Ashton.
“Gone to smash––clean busted!” commented Gowan, as he turned about to go to his horse, his spurs jingling gayly.
Knowles followed him, shaking his head. The girl had been gazing at Ashton with an expression that varied from sympathetic commiseration to contemptuous pity. As her adopted father and Gowan mounted, she rode over to them.
“Go on,” she said. “I’ll overtake you as soon as I’ve watered my hawss.”
“You’re not going to speak to that kettle of mush again, Miss Chuckie,” remonstrated Gowan.