Leroy has pressed a stray calf into our
Service "
"I see," she flashed. "Pressed veal."
The outlaw smiled at her ready wit, and took on himself the
burden of further explanation. "And this particular slow elk
comes from a ranch on the Aravaipa owned by Mr. Collins. York
shot it up in the hills a day or two ago."
"Shouldn't have been straying so far from its range," suggested
Collins, with a laugh. "But it's good veal, even if I say it that
shouldn't."
"Thank you," burlesqued the bandit gravely, with such an ironic
touch of convention that Alice smiled.
After dinner Leroy produced cigars, and with the permission of
Miss Mackenzie the two men smoked while the conversation ran on a
topic as impersonal as literature. A criticism of novels and
plays written to illustrate the frontier was the line into which
the discussion fell, and the girl from the city, listening with a
vivid interest, was pleased to find that these two real men
talked with point and a sense of dexterous turns. She felt a sort
of proud proprietorship in their power, and wished that some of
the tailors' models she had met in society, who held so good a
conceit of themselves, might come under the spell of their
strong, tolerant virility.
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