"Her own brother, huh? That's a odd number. Alla same I'll bet she don't miss him much."
"Nor Nebraska, neither. He'll never come back to bother her again, that's a cinch. Who's that ahead?"
"That" was Molly waiting for them at a turn in the trail. When they came up to her she nodded to both men, but her smile was all for Racey Dawson. He felt his pulse begin to beat a trifle faster. How handsome she was with her dark hair and blue eyes. And at the moment those blue eyes that were looking into his were deep enough to drown a man.
"Can I see you a minute, Racey?" said she.
Swing immediately turned his horse on a dime and loped along the back trail. Left alone with Racey she moved her horse closer to his. Their ankles touched. His hands were clasped on the saddle-horn. She laid her cool hand on top of them.
"Racey," she said, her wonderful eyes holding him, "why are you going away?"
This was almost too much for Racey. He could hardly think straight. "I told you," he said, hoarsely. "We're goin' to Arizona—minin'."
She flung this statement aside with a jerk of her head. "You used to like me, Racey," she told him.
He nodded miserably.
"Don't you like me any more?" she persisted.