“What does this all mean, anyway, old man? I don’t understand you,” said Grant with much solicitude.
“Well, guess you better forget it then,” said Roderick half abruptly. “But I owe you an apology for going away so unceremoniously from the frontier gathering. I know we had arranged to dine together last night But I just cleared out—that’s all. Please do not ask me any questions, Grant, as to why and wherefore. If in the future I should take you into my confidence that will be time enough.”
“All right, old man,” said Grant, “here is my hand. And know now and for all time it don’t make a derned bit of difference what has happened, I am on your side to the finish, whether it is a desperate case of petty larceny or only plain murder.”
Grant laughed and tried to rouse his friend into hilarity.
“It is neither,” replied Roderick laconically. “All the same I’ve got some news for you. I have quit my job.”
“At the Shields ranch?” cried Grant in astonishment. “Surely there’s been no trouble there?”
“Oh, no, we are all the best of friends. I am just tired of cow-punching, and have other plans in view. Besides, remember the letter we got pushed under the door here on the occasion of my last visit. Perhaps I may be a bit skeered about having my hide shot full of holes, eh, old man?” Roderick was now laughing.
But Grant looked grave. He eyed his comrade tentatively.
“Stuff and nonsense. The lunatic who wrote that letter was barking up the wrong tree. He mistook you for the other fellow. You were never seriously smitten in that quarter, now were you, Rod, old man?”
“Certainly not. Barbara Shields is a fine girl, but I never even dreamed of making love to her. I didn’t come to Wyoming to chase after a millionaire’s daughter,” he added bitterly.