“I’m sure you won’t,” said Brand Fair, “and for the present, if you’ll accept us at our face value, we’ll be mighty glad—eh, Sonny?”
“I’ve been glad all the time,” said Sonny fervently, “and so’s Dirk.”
“Ingrates!” laughed the man. “Here I’ve shared my poor substance with you two for—a very long time—and at the first bribe of meat and kisses you turn me down cold!”
“Oh!” cried Nance, flushing, “you know all about us!”
“It’s my business to know all about one who invades my solitude, isn’t it?”
But here Sonny could stand Brand’s badinage no longer and pulling away from Nance he ran to him, and clinging about his knees, begged forgiveness for the lie whose memory troubled his clear little soul.
The man touched the unkempt small head with a tender hand. “Sure, old-timer,” he said gently; “that’s all right. A gentleman must lie when a lady commands—he couldn’t do anything else.”
“You make me feel like a sinner!” said Nance, “I hope you’ll forgive me, too.”
The man took Sonny’s hand as she made ready to leave and turned down the cañon with her.
“We’ll form a guard-of-honor in token of that,” he said, “and in seeing you off we’ll invite you back again. Sonny would miss you now, you know. But just remember always, Miss Allison, please—that in a way we’re keeping out of sight—until—until some time in an uncertain future. Consider us a secret, will you not?”