"You may ask my husband."
"Thank you, madam. Our foreman instructed me to say that if the place proved to be occupied, I was to ask terms for pasturage. We've only two hundred head."
"Mr. Smith will consider the matter."
"We're camped in a little cave at the south end of the bench, deuced comfortable."
Of course I know I'm a fool, and expect to be treated as such. But this man claimed to have camped at the South Cave without passing this house, which was impossible.
"Camped at South Cave?" said I. "In that event I need not detain you. Mr. Smith no doubt will call on you after dinner. Good morning, sir."
But this was not to his mind, and I gathered vaguely that my husband was not really wanted at the Bar Y camp. I even suspected that this visitor would rather deal with me than see my husband. It required more than a hint to secure his departure.
Jesse returned at noon. He had set off singing, but at dinner he was so thoughtful that he never even noticed my casserole, a dish he was expected to enjoy, and when he tried afterward to light an empty pipe, I saw that there was something wrong. He received the story of our caller with the noises of one displeased. "That visitor, Kate," he summed up, "would make a first-class stranger. Knew me, you say, in Texas?"
Hearing from her kitchen Mrs. O'Flynn's sharp grunt of dissent, I closed the door.
"You've left the key-hole open," said Jesse, rising from the table, "come for a walk."