“Of course it’s understood that you are on parole until we separate,” said Leroy curtly.
“Of course.”
“Then we’ll have supper at once, for we’ll have to be on the road early.” He clapped his hands together, and the Mexican woman appeared. Her master flung out a command or two in her own language.
“Poco tiempo,” she answered, and disappeared.
In a surprisingly short time the meal was ready, set out on a table white with Irish linen and winking with cut glass and silver.
“Mr. Leroy does not believe at all in doing when in Rome as the Romans do,” Alice explained to Collins, in answer to his start of amazement. “He’s a regular Aladdin. I shouldn’t be a bit surprised to see electric lights come on next.”
“One has to attempt sometimes to blot out the forsaken desert,” said Leroy. “Try this cut of slow elk, Miss Mackenzie. I think you’ll like it.”
“Slow elk! What is that?” asked the girl, to make talk.
“Mr. Collins will tell you,” smiled Leroy.
She turned to the sheriff, who first apologized, with a smile, to his host. “Slow elk, Miss Mackenzie, is veal that has been rustled. I expect Mr. Leroy has pressed a stray calf into our Service.”