It must be highly gratifying to know that it is of your own making."
The tone roused the girl's anger and she glanced up as she finished
lacing her leggings.
"Yes," she answered, sweetly, "it is--very. And one of the most
amusing features is to watch how a man's disposition crabs with the
mussing of his clothing. No wonder the men who live out here wear
things that won't muss, or there wouldn't be but one left and he'd be
just a concentrated chunk of unadulterated venom. Really, Winthrop,
you do look horrid, and your disposition is perfectly nasty. But,
cheer up, the worst is yet to come, and if you will go down to the
creek and wash your hands, you can come back and help me with the grub.
You can get busy and dig the dough-gods and salve out of that sack
while I sizzle up the sow-belly."
Endicott regarded her with a frown of disapproval: "Why this
preposterous and vulgar talk?"
"Adaptability to environment," piped the girl, glibly. "You can't get
along by speaking New York in Montana, any easier than you can with
English in Cincinnati."
Endicott turned away with a sniff of disgust, and the girl's lips drew
into a smile which she meant to be an exact replica of the Texan's as
she proceeded to slice strips of bacon into the frying-pan.
The meal was a silent affair, and during its progress the moon rose
clear of the divide and hung, a great orange ball, above the high-flung
peaks.
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