“Why—why—— But, mad’mo’selle, you must realize that a young girl like you can’t wander these mountains alone—or with a set of young scamps like these boys. They’re good boys, and they wouldn’t hurt you, but people would talk.”
Solange only shrugged her shoulders. “Talk! Madame, I am not afraid of talk.”
“But, my dear, you are too lovely—too—— You must understand that you can’t do it.”
“It’d sure be dangerous,” said Wallace, emphatically. “We couldn’t allow it, nohow. Even my son here—I wouldn’t let you go with him, and he’s a good boy as they go. And there’s others you might meet in the hills.”
Solange nodded. “I understand, monsieur. But I am not afraid. Besides, am I not to meet my husband on this Shoestring Cañon where we must first go?”
Simultaneously they turned on her. “Your husband!” It was a cry of astonishment from the older people and one of mingled surprise and shock from the boys. Solange smiled and nodded.
“Yes,” she said. “Monsieur de Launay, whom you rescued from the jail. He is my husband and it is all quite proper.”
“It ain’t proper nohow,” muttered Sucatash. “That bum is her husband, Dave!”
“I don’t get this, quite,” said Wallace.