Mac drifted in after the disciplining. As foreman it was fitting that he should be discreetly ignorant of what had occurred, but he could not help saying:
“That y’u I heard singing, Reddy? Seems to me y’u had ought to take that voice into grand opera. The way y’u straddle them high notes is a caution for fair. What was it y’u was singing? Sounded like ‘Would I were far from here, love.’”
“Y’u go to hell,” choked Reddy, rushing past him from the bunkhouse.
McWilliams looked round innocently. “I judge some of y’u boys must a-been teasing Reddy from his manner. Seemed like he didn’t want to sit down and talk.”
“I shouldn’t wonder but he’ll hold his conversations standing for a day or two,” returned Missou gravely.
At the end of the laugh that greeted this Mac replied:
“Well, y’u boys want to be gentle with him.” “He’s so plumb tender now that I reckon he’ll get along without any more treatment in that line from us,” drawled Frisco.
Mac departed laughing. He had an engagement that recurred daily in the dusk of the evening, and he was always careful to be on time. The other party to the engagement met him at the kitchen door and fell with him into the trail that led to Lee Ming’s laundry.
“What made you late?” she asked.
“I’m not late, honey. I seem late because you’re so anxious,” he explained.