“When yuh teach the young idea how to shoot, you’ve sure got to pack a lot of ammunition, ain’t yuh?” smiled Brick, as she came up to him.
“Yes indeed,” replied the teacher, a trifle wearily.
“Let me pack them books,” offered Brick, taking them from her. “I’ll walk down and see Mrs. Wesson.”
“But I can carry them,” she protested.
“Sure yuh can—but not just now,” grinned Brick.
They walked slowly up the street and were opposite the Dollar Down, when Harp and Silent came outside. The two cowpunchers stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and stared at Brick and the teacher. Brick grinned covertly. He could tell by their attitude that Harp and Silent were making uncomplimentary remarks about him.
A horseman was riding into town, heading for the rack at the Dollar Down. It was Santel. Miss Miller looked toward him and turned to Brick.
“Mr. Davidson, do you know that man?” she asked.
“Yes’m. His name is Santel.”
“What is he doing here?”