"I'm only a sheep dipper," went on Ruff, "but I ain't no fool. A fellar
doesn't have to live East an' wear swell clothes to have sense. Mebbe
you'll learn thet the West is bigger'n you think. A man's a man East or
West. But if your Eastern men stand for such dresses as thet white one
they'd do well to come out West awhile, like your lover, Glenn Kilbourne.
I've been rustlin' round here ten years, an' I never before seen a dress
like yours--an' I never heerd of a girl bein' insulted, either. Mebbe you
think I insulted you. Wal, I didn't. Fer I reckon nothin' could insult you
in thet dress. . . . An' my last hunch is this, Pretty Eyes. You're not
what a hombre like me calls either square or game. Adios."
His bulky figure darkened the doorway, passed out, and the light of the sky
streamed into the cabin again. Carley sat staring. She heard Ruff's spurs
tinkle, then the ring of steel on stirrup, a sodden leathery sound as he
mounted, and after that a rapid pound of hoofs, quickly dying away.
He was gone. She had escaped something raw and violent. Dazedly she
realized it, with unutterable relief. And she sat there slowly gathering
the nervous force that had been shattered. Every word that he had uttered
was stamped in startling characters upon her consciousness.
Pages:
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188