All the same, signs were not wanting in his mobile face that he was almost unable to restrain his mirth.
Helen realized then that Bo saw through the cowboy—that the ultimatum was only one of his tricks.
“It IS a bluff and I CALL you!” declared Bo, ringingly.
Las Vegas suddenly awoke to consequences. He essayed to speak, but she was so wonderful then, so white and blazing-eyed, that he was stricken mute.
“I'll ride Blue-Bo this afternoon,” deliberately stated the girl.
Las Vegas had wit enough to grasp her meaning, and he seemed about to collapse.
“Very well, you can make me Mrs. Tom Carmichael to-day—this morning—just before dinner.... Go get a preacher to marry us—and make yourself look a more presentable bridegroom—UNLESS IT WAS ONLY A BLUFF!”
Her imperiousness changed as the tremendous portent of her words seemed to make Las Vegas a blank, stone image of a man. With a wild-rose color suffusing her face, she swiftly bent over him, kissed him, and flashed away into the house. Her laugh pealed back, and it thrilled Helen, so deep and strange was it for the wilful sister, so wild and merry and full of joy.
It was then that Roy Beeman recovered from his paralysis, to let out such a roar of mirth as to frighten the horses. Helen was laughing, and crying, too, but laughing mostly. Las Vegas Carmichael was a sight for the gods to behold. Bo's kiss had unclamped what had bound him. The sudden truth, undeniable, insupportable, glorious, made him a madman.
“Bluff—she called me—ride Blue-Bo saf'ternoon!” he raved, reaching wildly for Helen. “Mrs.—Tom—Carmichael—before dinner—preacher—presentable bridegroom!... Aw! I'm drunk again! I—who swore off forever!”