"He is a good hoss, ma'am. He ain't a goner yet, by a jugful. I'll get him back."
"I hope so, an' I hope yuh lynch the thief, or shoot him anyway. He hadn't ought to live a minute. The Flyin' M cook, too. Yuh can't hardly believe it."
Loudon got his drink and departed. As he rode past the house he saw Dorothy and O'Leary sitting on the doorstep. Dorothy waved her hand and smiled. O'Leary positively beamed. Had Loudon been his oldest friend O'Leary's greeting could not have been more cordial.
"Now I'd like to know," thought Loudon, as he rode down the street, "what license he's got to be so cheerful. Is it 'cause I ain't stayin' to supper, or is it 'cause he's got some other card up his sleeve?"
"Why didn't you stay to supper?" chuckled Scotty, when Loudon dropped into the chair next him at the hotel dining-table.
"I couldn't stand it to be away from you so long," retorted Loudon, and helped himself generously to the butter.
"I kind o' thought it might be that way. Try them pickles. They taste like they'd been used for tannin' saddles."
Night had not yet fallen when Loudon and Scotty started for the Flying M. As they passed the house of Big Jim Mace, Scotty groaned.
"Here comes that female girl o' Old Salt's," he whispered, perturbedly. "She's headin' our way. She's a-callin' to yuh, Tom! She's a-callin' to yuh! I'm goin' on. I'll wait for yuh on the trail."
There was no disregarding Kate Saltoun. She had even stepped out into the street in her efforts to attract Loudon's attention. Scotty loped onward, and Loudon twisted his horse toward the sidewalk.