As a diversion, Teddy served very well. Horse and owner were both mightily pleased to see each other. While the animal rubbed its nose against his coat, the ranger teased and petted it.
“Hello, you old Teddy hawss. How air things a-comin', pardner?” he drawled, with a reversion to his Texas speech. “Plumb tickled to death to meet up with yore old master, ain't you? How come it you ain't fallen in love with this young lady and forgot Steve?”
“He thinks a lot of me, too,” Arlie claimed promptly.
“Don't blame you a bit, Teddy. I'll ce'tainly shake hands with you on that. But life's jest meetin' and partin', old hawss. I got to take you away for good, day after to-morrow.”
“Where are you going?” the girl asked quickly. Then, to cover the swift interest of her question: “But, of course, it is time you were going back to your business.”
“No, ma'am, that is just it. Seems to me either too soon or too late to be going.”
She had her face turned from him, and was busy over her plants, to hide the tremulous dismay that had shaken her at his news.
She did not ask him what he meant, nor did she ask again where he was going. For the moment, she could not trust her voice to say more.
“Too late, because I've seen in this valley some one I'll never forget, and too soon because that some one will forget me, sure as a gun,” he told her.
“Not if you write to him.”