"--that Mr. Purdy beat you, I am sure. And are you always as accurate
as when you lassoed the honourable Mayor of Wolf River?"
"I always get what I go after--sometimes," answered the man meeting her
gaze with a flash of the baffling grey eyes. A subtle something, in
look or words, seemed a challenge. Instinctively she realized that
despite his rough exterior here was a man infinitely less crude than
the other. An ordinary cowpuncher, to all appearance, and
yet--something in the flash of the eyes, the downward curve of the
corners of the lips aroused the girl's interest. He was speaking again:
"I'll dance with you, too--if you stay. But I won't mortgage none of
your time in advance." The man's glance shifted deliberately from the
girl to Endicott and back to the girl again. Then, without waiting for
her to reply, he whirled his horse and swung off at top speed to join
the other cowpunchers who were racing in the wake of the Mayor.
CHAPTER III
PURDY
Some moments later, Jack Purdy nosed his horse into the group of
cayuses that stood with reins hanging, "tied to the ground," in front
of the Long Horn Saloon. Beyond the open doors sounded a babel of
voices and he could see the men lined two deep before the bar.
Swinging from the saddle he threw the stirrup over the seat and became
immediately absorbed in the readjustment of his latigo strap.
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