“What I said,” he affirmed doggedly.
But the mistress of Last’s took a clutch on his hand that was authority in force and leaned down to look anxiously in his face.
“Why, Billy,” she said with a quiver in her voice, “Last’s couldn’t run without you, boy. An’ what’s more, I thought all th’ riders of th’ Holdin’ would stand by th’ place.”
Billy, fully sobered, straightened up and held hard to that clutching hand. The red light of the sunset flushed his cheeks, but it never set the glow that was in his eyes.
“Don’t you know yet, Tharon,” he said quietly, “when I’m a-jokin’ with you? I’d stand by Last’s an’ you to my last breath. Don’t you know that?” 75
For a long moment Tharon regarded him gravely.
“Yes, I do,” she said, “but somehow I don’t like to have you talk that-a-way, Billy. Don’t do it no more.”
“All right,” promised the rider, “if you say so, Boss. Only don’t talk about firin’ me, then. I’m very sensitive.”
And he looked away with smiling eyes to where the deep black shadows fell prone into the Valley from the forbidding face of the great Wall.
Only the towering peaks were alight with crimson and gold, which haloed their bulk in majestic mystery.