“Shore. He's takin' two hosses up to the snow-line. Then, if necessary, he'll go over the pass on snow-shoes. But I bet him Dale would ride out. Snow's about gone except on the north slopes an' on the peaks.”
“Then—when may I—we expect to see Dale?”
“Three or four days, I reckon. I wish he was here now.... Miss Helen, there's trouble afoot.”
“I realize that. I'm ready. Did Las Vegas tell you about Beasley's visit to me?”
“No. You tell me,” replied Roy.
Briefly Helen began to acquaint him with the circumstances of that visit, and before she had finished she made sure Roy was swearing to himself.
“He asked you to marry him! Jerusalem!... Thet I'd never have reckoned. The—low-down coyote of a greaser!... Wal, Miss Helen, when I met up with Senor Beasley last night he was shore spoilin' from somethin'; now I see what thet was. An' I reckon I picked out the bad time.”
“For what? Roy, what did you do?”
“Wal, I'd made up my mind awhile back to talk to Beasley the first chance I had. An' thet was it. I was in the store when I seen him go into Turner's. So I followed. It was 'most dark. Beasley an' Riggs an' Mulvey an' some more were drinkin' an' powwowin'. So I just braced him right then.”
“Roy! Oh, the way you boys court danger!”