“Huh! An' why so?”
“Because that—wonderful girl would never look at me,” Dale replied, simply.
“I seen her lookin' already,” declared Al, bluntly.
Dale shook his head as if arguing with the old rancher was hopeless.
“Never mind thet,” went on Al. “Mebbe I am a dotty old fool—'specially for takin' a shine to you. But I say again—will you come down to Pine and be my foreman?”
“No,” replied Dale.
“Milt, I've no son—an' I'm—afraid of Beasley.” This was uttered in an agitated whisper.
“Al, you make me ashamed,” said Dale, hoarsely. “I can't come. I've no nerve.”
“You've no what?”
“Al, I don't know what's wrong with me. But I'm afraid I'd find out if I came down there.”