So, if you'll just set to one side a minute
while I get this fire a-goin' an' Win fetches some water, you can take
holt an' do the cookin' while we-all get the outfit ready for the
trail."
Something in the man's voice caused the girl to regard him sharply, and
her eyes shifted for a moment to his companion who stood in the
background. There was no flash of recognition in the glance, and
Endicott, suppressing a laugh, turned his face away, picked up the
water pail, and started toward the creek.
"Who is that man?" asked the girl, a trifle nervously, as he
disappeared from view.
"Who, him?" The Texan was shaving slivers from a bull pine stick.
"He's a friend of mine. Win's his name, an' barrin' a few little
irregularities of habit, he ain't so bad." The cowboy burst into
mournful song as he collected his shavings and laid them upon the coals:
"It's little Joe, the wrangler, he'll wrangle never more,
His days with the _remuda_ they are o'er;
'Twas a year ago last April when he rode into our camp,
Just a little Texas stray, and all alo-o-o-n-e."
Alice leaned toward the man in sudden anger:
"You've been drinking!" she whispered.
Tex glanced at her in surprise: "That's so," he said, gravely. "It's
the only way I can get it down."
She was about to retort when Endicott returned from the creek and
placed the water pail beside her.
Pages:
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215