Roderick reached over and once more bestowed a good honest squeeze; and he improved the occasion by begging Scotty not to indulge in evil thoughts about killing people or anything of that sort.
“What makes you kind t’ me?” asked the lad as he looked inquiringly at Roderick.
“I don’t know that I have been particularly kind to you,” replied Roderick. “I begin to realize that I should have been here before now to help cheer you up a bit while convalescing.”
Scotty turned from Roderick and looking at the ceiling was silent for a few moments. At last he said: “Expect if I’d stay here a long, long time you’d keep on bein’ kind t’ me. Possibly you would bring Barbara with you on some of your visits. But I know I’m goin’ t’ get well, that’s the pity of it all. I wouldn’t be in bed now if the doctor hadn’t said I got ter stay here for a few days. When I’m well, why, then it’s all off with you an’ Scotty. You won’t pay any more attention to me when I’m once more sound as a nut an’ ridin’ range than you would a low down coyote.”
“Why should I become indifferent to you?” inquired Roderick.
“Oh, no reason why you should, only you will,” replied Scotty. “You are of the high-falutin’ an’ educated kind an’—well, I never went to school more’n two weeks in my life. I got tired of the educatin’ business—stole a horse and never did go back. An’ they never caught me, nuther.”
He brightened up when he said this and laughed at his cleverness as if it were a most pleasant remembrance.
“Where was your childhood home?” inquired Roderick.
“Now, right there,” replied Scotty, “is where yer presumin’. You’re not talkin’ to me. D’ye suppose I’m goin’ ter tell yer and have this whole business piped off and those fellers come out here an’ pinch me for hoss-stealin’. Not on yer life, so long as Scotty Meisch knows himself.”
Roderick smiled as he said: “Surely, Scotty, you are a very suspicious person. I had no thought of doing what you suggest.”