“Or when you fought the mad dog in the street with yore bare hands?”
“You know when, June,” he answered bitterly. “When I let Jake Houck walk off with you to save my worthless hide.”
“I’ve forgotten that, Bob,” she said gently. “So much has happened since. That was foolishness anyhow, what—what we did in Blister’s office. But I hate to give up the boy on Piceance Creek who was kinda like a brother to me. Do I have to lose him?”
There was no need for her big dark eyes to plead with him. His face was working. He bit his lip to keep from breaking down. This was what he wanted more than anything else in the world, but he was embarrassed and irritated at the display of emotion he could not wholly control.
“’S all right with me,” he said gruffly.
“Then we’ll be friends again, won’t we?”
“Ump-ha!” he grunted. “I—I’d just as lief.” He recognized this as cavalier and added: “I mean it’s awful good of you.”
“When you come back you won’t forget to ask for me if I’m not where you see me. I’ll want to hear all about what you do.”
“Yes,” he promised; and in a burst of gratitude cried: “You’re a dandy girl, June. If you treated me like I deserved you’d never speak to me again.”
She flushed. “That’s silly. I never did feel thataway. Lots of times I’ve wanted to tell you that—that it needn’t make any difference. But I couldn’t, ’count of—what we did in Blister’s office. A girl has to be awful careful, you know. If we hadn’t done that foolish thing—”