He unslung his field-glasses,
and looked long at the approaching dust-swirl. Presently he
handed the binoculars to Leroy.
"Five of them; and that round-bellied Papago pony in front
belongs to Sheriff Forbes, or I'm away wrong."
Leroy lowered the glasses, after a long, unflurried inspection.
"Looks that way to me. Expect I'd better be burning the wind."
In a few sentences he and Collins arranged a meeting for next day
up in the hills. He trailed his spurs through the dust toward
Alice Mackenzie, and offered her his brown hand and wistful smile
irresistible. "Good-by. This is where you get quit of me for
good."
"Oh, I hope not," she told him impulsively. "We must always be
friends."
He laughed ruefully. "Your father wouldn't indorse those unwise
sentiments, I reckon--and I'd hate to bet your husband would," he
added audaciously, with a glance at Collins. "But I love to hear
you say it, even though we never could be. You're a right game,
stanch little pardner. I'll back that opinion with the lid off."
"You should be a good judge of those qualities. I'm only sorry
you don't always use them in a good cause.
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