"But Holley, all that—it doesn't seem—"
"I reckon not," went on Holley, as Slone halted. "I think she cares fer you. An' I'm your friend, Slone. You're goin' to buck up ag'in some hell round here sooner or later. An' you'll need a friend."
"Thanks—Holley," replied Slone, unsteadily. He thrilled under the iron grasp of the rider's hard hand.
"You've got another friend you can gamble on," said Holley, significantly.
"Another! Who?"
"Lucy Bostil. An' don't you fergit thet. I'll bet she'll raise more trouble than Bostil when she hears what Joel Creech is tellin'. Fer she's bound to hear it. Van Sickle swears he's a-goin' to tell her an' then beat you up with a quirt."
"He is, is he?" snapped Slone, darkly.
"I've a hunch Lucy's guessed why you punched Joel. But she wants to know fer sure. Now, Slone, I'll tell her why."
"Oh, don't!" said Slone, involuntarily.
"Wal, it'll be better comin' from you an' me. Take my word fer thet. I'll prepare Lucy. An' she's as good a scrapper as Bostil, any day."