As she approached, Lafond arose and went inside the saloon, where he began to inquire of Frosty in regard to dinner. The girl sat down in the vacated chair. Beyond a curt little nod to Graham she did not notice his presence.
Over Tom Custer an eagle was wheeling slowly to and fro, barking with the mere delight of being on the wing. Molly fixed her eyes dreamily on the bird, but without apparent consciousness of more than the mere fact of its wide motion. Graham imperturbably whittled a pine stick, and whistled at the sky.
This state of affairs continued for some time.
"How do you keep the dirt from coming through the roof?" asked Molly suddenly, her mind, to all appearance, entirely on the work in hand.
Graham explained briefly.
"Thank you," said Molly.
After a few minutes more Graham shifted his knife into his left hand, and began idly to stab the bench with it. Several times he opened his mouth to speak.
"You've got him well trained," he observed finally, with a slight curl of the lip.
"Who? What do you mean?" she cried, genuinely surprised out of the indifference she had assumed.
"Him—Lafond. He knows when to go away. Why did you want to get rid of him?"