“I’m going to have a talk with Laura while I’m so near,” he explained.
“Yes, that will be fine. From the way the old man talked when I was there, I expect he’ll kill the fatted yearling for you.”
“I don’t figure on including the old man in my call. What’s the use of having a friend along if you don’t use him? You drift in ... just happen along, you know. I’ll stay in the scrub pines up here. If the old man is absent scenery, you wave your bandanna real industrious. If he is at home, give Laura the tip and she’ll know where to find me.”
The owner of the ranch, as it happened, was cutting trail over by Agua Caliente.
“Do you want to see him very bad, Mr. Flandrau?” asked Miss Laura demurely.
“My friends call me Curly.”
“I meant to say Curly.”
“That’s what I thought. No, I can’t say I’ve lost Mr. London.”
“You inquired for him.”
“Hmp! That’s different. When I used to come home from the swimming hole contrary to orders, I used to ask where Dad was, but I didn’t want to see him.”