“Wal, seein’ as how I want you-all to get on an’ the rail-road built, I reckon I’d better not go,” drawled Larry. His blue eyes shone warm upon his friend.
“Larry, I’ll be back in a day or so,” said Neale.
“Aw, now, pard, you stay. Go back on the job an’ stick,” appealed the cowboy.
“No. I quit and I’ll stay quit. I might help out—for a day—just as a favor. But—” Neale shook his head.
“I reckon, if you care anythin’ aboot me, you’ll shore stick.”
“Larry, you’ll go to the bad if I leave you here alone,” protested Neale.
“Wel, if you stay we’ll both go,” replied Larry, sharply. He had changed subtly. “It’s in me to go to hell—I reckon I’ve gone—but that ain’t so for you.”
“Two’s company,” said Neale, with an attempt at lightness. But it was a pretense. Larry worried him.
“Listen. If you go back on the job—then it ‘ll be all right for you to run in heah to see me once in a while. But if you throw up this chance I’ll—”
Larry paused. His ruddy tan had faded slightly.