"Yes, he's a good deal to me," she said.
"Brother?" he demanded, with disconcerting persistence.
"No."
If her eyes could have pierced the darkness she would have seen a broad smile of understanding spreading over his young face. But it was a sympathetic smile withal. "Then I guess this dollar stands for 'beat it'?" he remarked.
"You win," she said, falling into his slang. "Also, forget it."
"I gotchuh, miss," he said, trotting off. Then he called back through the darkness, "An' I hope he gits off."
"God bless him for that," she said to herself, as she dismounted and made her way to the back of the building. She saw the outline of a door, which was undoubtedly locked, and further down the same wall was a little square window, with bars on it. There appeared to be only one cell, so there was no problem of locating the right one.
She stole up along the wall, but the window was too high for her. Searching about the littered yard she found a square tin, such as the ranchers use to carry coal-oil. Mounting this she was able to bring her face to the bars. The window was open for ventilation, and she strained her ear, but at first could hear nothing for the tumultous beating of her own heart. But at length she seemed to catch the sound of regular breathing from within.
"Jim," she said, in a low voice, listening intently. But there was no response.
"Jim," she repeated, a little louder. She fancied she heard a stir, and the sound of breathing seemed to cease.