"Ah!" Mr. Burrows sighed over his second helping, which left seemingly but a scanty remainder for the big hungry man outside. "These considerations of diet, my young friend,"—and so on.
With a last wrench at the roller towel, which he had puffed over and blown into with great satisfaction, the Blackguard rolled down the sleeves of his grey undershirt, wished inwardly that he had brought a jacket, since he was to be the guest of a woman, and strode with loud-clanking spurs across the doorstep.
"Ah, Constable," said Lunatic Burrows indifferently, "I had forgotten. I hope Miss Burrows has reserved some supper for you in the kitchen."
The Blackguard's face looked black and threatening as he drew up his shoulders, his head almost touching the beams. "I only came in," he said haughtily, "to tell this youngster not to trouble about the horses—I've seen to them."
"I've kept your supper in the oven," said Miss Burrows anxiously. "You'll forgive us for beginning without you?"
La Mancha bowed stiffly, but his eyes were tender at once when he saw the girl's real courtesy.
"I hope you'll excuse me, Miss Burrows. Fact is, I have friends at the Tough Nut Claim who want me to stay over night." Then he turned to her Uncle: "You needn't disturb yourself, Burrows."
"Oh yes—certainly—very proper, I'm sure. Your friends at the Tough Nut will"—
"For shame, Uncle," cried the girl indignantly; and the Tenderfoot stood up.
"I hope you'll excuse me too, Mr. Burrows, if I say good-night. I'm going with my friend."