A dozen times he was on the point of
speaking his mind on the subject, but some unusual quality of
innocence in the lad tied his tongue.
"Blame it all, I'm getting to be a regular old granny. What
Master Frank needs is a first-class dressing-down, and here the
little cuss has got me bluffed to a fare-you-well so that I'm mum
as a hooter on the nest," he admitted to himself ruefully. "Just
when something comes up that needs a good round damn I catch that
big brown Sunday school eye of his, and it's Bucky back to
Webster's unabridged. I've got to quit trailing with him, or I'll
be joining the church first thing I know. He makes me feel like I
want to be good, confound the little swindle."
Notwithstanding the ranger's occasional moments of exasperation,
the two got along swimmingly. Each of them found a continued
pleasure in delving into the other's unexplored mental recesses.
They drifted into one of those quick, spontaneous likings that
are rare between man and man. Some subtle quality of affection
bubbled up like a spring in the hearts of each for the other.
Young Hardman could perhaps have explained what lay at the roots
of it, but O'Connor admitted that he was "buffaloed" when he
attempted an analysis of his unusual feeling.
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