“Bo makes up to all the fellars,” confessed Carmichael, hanging his head. “I took her to the dance last week—over in the town-hall. Thet's the first time she'd gone anywhere with me. I shore was proud.... But thet dance was hell. Bo carried on somethin' turrible, an' I—”
“Tell me. What did she do?” demanded Helen, anxiously. “I'm responsible for her. I've got to see that she behaves.”
“Aw, I ain't sayin' she didn't behave like a lady,” replied Carmichael. “It was—she—wal, all them fellars are fools over her—an' Bo wasn't true to me.”
“My dear boy, is Bo engaged to you?”
“Lord—if she only was!” he sighed.
“Then how can you say she wasn't true to you? Be reasonable.”
“I reckon now, Miss Nell, thet no one can be in love an' act reasonable,” rejoined the cowboy. “I don't know how to explain, but the fact is I feel thet Bo has played the—the devil with me an' all the other fellars.”
“You mean she has flirted?”
“I reckon.”
“Las Vegas, I'm afraid you're right,” said Helen, with growing apprehension. “Go on. Tell me what's happened.”