“Barbara an’ I has made it all up,” continued the lad, still smiling, wistfully yet happily. “She’s dead stuck on that lawyer chap, Bragdon, and we shook hands over it. I wished her luck, and promised to vote for Bragdon at the election for state senator. An’ what do you think she did when I told her that?” he asked, raising himself in his chair.
“She said ‘Bully for you,’ I bet,” replied Roderick. “She did more. She kissed me—fair and square, she kissed me,” Scotty put his finger-tips to his forehead. “Oh, only there,” he added, half regretfully. “But I’ll never forget the touch of her lips, her sweet breath in my face.” And he patted the spot on his brow in appreciative reminiscence.
“That’s politics, as Jim Rankin would say,” laughed Roderick, more to himself than to the cowboy.
“Wal, it’s the sort o’ politics I like,” replied Scotty. “If she’d even only cuff my ears every time I voted, I’d be a repeater for Bragdon at the polls.”
“Well, we’ll both vote the Bragdon ticket, Scotty. A girl like Barbara Shields is worth making happy, all the time. And later on, old fellow, the proper girl will be coming along for you.”
“Looks as if she was comin’ along for you right now,” grinned Scotty, glancing toward the steps of the veranda.
And a moment later Roderick was shaking hands with another hospital visitor, gazing into Gail Holden’s blue eyes, and receiving her warm words of greeting over his safe return.
“We heard something about a fight near Walcott, you know, Mr. Warfield—about a mysterious carload of ore. Two hold-up men were killed, and your name was mentioned in connection with the affair. I felt quite anxious until Mr. Meisch received his postcard from Denver. But you never thought of writing to me,” she added, reproachfully.
“I did not dare,” murmured Roderick in a low tone intended only for her ears.
But Scotty heard and Scotty saw.