The day passed without a meeting between the two. Curly grew nervous at the delay.
“I’m as restless as a toad on a hot skillet,” he confessed to Davis. “This thing of never knowing what minute Soapy will send me his leaden compliments ain’t any picnic. Wisht it was over.”
“He’s drinking himself blind. Every hour is to the good for you.”
Curly shrugged. “Drunk or sober Soapy always shoots straight.”
Another day passed. The festivities had begun and Curly had to be much in evidence before the public. His friends had attempted to dissuade him from riding in the bucking broncho contest, but he had refused to let his name be scratched from the list of contestants.
A thousand pair of eyes in the grandstand watched the boy as he lounged against the corral fence laughing and talking with his friends. A dozen people were on the lookout for the approach of Stone. Fifty others had warned the young man to be careful. For Saguache was with him almost to a man.
Dick Maloney heard his voice called as he was passing the grandstand, A minute later he was in the Cullison box shaking hands with Kate.
“Is—is there anything new?” she asked in a low voice.
Her friend shook his head. “No. Soapy may drift out here any minute now.”
“Will he——?” Her eyes finished the question.