"All right, call him Reddy," he went on. "I guess I can
allow my future wife so much familiarity with my pard."
This confused Allie out of her sweet gravity, and she blushed.
"Shore you're mighty kind," drawled Larry, recovering. "More 'n I
reckoned on from a fellar who's shore lost his haid."
"I've lost more 'n that," retorted Neale, "and I'm afraid a certain
wild young cowboy I know has lost as much."
"Wal, I reckon somethin' abbot this heah place of Slingerland's
draws on a fellar," admitted Larry, resignedly.
Allie did not long stay embarrassed by their sallies.
"Neale, tell me--"
"See heah, Allie, if you call me Reddy an' him only Neale--why he's
a-goin' to pitch into me," interrupted Larry, with twinkling eyes.
"An' he's shore a bad customer when he's r'iled."
"Only Neale? What does he mean?" inquired Allie.
"Beyond human conjecture," replied Neale, laughing.
"Wal, don't you know his front name?" asked Larry.
"Neale. I call him that," she replied.
"Haw! Haw! But it ain't thet."
"Allie, my name is Warren," said Neale. "You've forgotten."
"Oh! ... Well, it's always been Neale--and always will be."
Larry rose and stretched his long arms for the pipe on the rude
stone chimney.
"Slingerland," he drawled, "these heah young people need to find out
who they are.
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