“You can’t cut Grant Jones out,” interrupted Roderick firmly. “Remember, next to yourself, he’s my dearest friend.”
“Oh, well, there’s Miss Barbara left. Now don’t you think I would be quite irresistible as compared with either of those lawyer fellows?” He drew himself up admiringly.
“You might be liable to get your hide shot full of holes,” replied Roderick.
“What do you mean?”
But Roderick did not explain his enigmatic utterance.
“I think I’ll have a lay-down,” he said, “and rest my stiff bones.” He got up; he said nothing to Whitley, but the bruised leg pained him considerably.
“All right,” replied Whitley gaily. “Then I’ll do a little further reconnoitering up at the ranch house. So long.”
Warfield was glad to be alone. Apart from the pain he was suffering, he wanted to think things over. He was not blind to the truth that Gail Holden had brought a new interest into his life. Yet he was half saddened by the thought that almost a month had gone by without a letter from Stella Rain. Then Whitley’s coming had brought back memories of Uncle Allen, Aunt Lois, and the old days at Keokuk. He was feeling very homesick—utterly tired of the rough cow-punching existence he had been leading for over six months.