Think I was some considerate of the
Greaser by only shootin' his arm off. Then I cracked the last lamp,
an' in the hullabaloo me an' Jim vamoosed.
"We made tracks for our hosses an' packs, an' was hittin' the San
Felipe road when we run right plumb into the young man. Well, he
said his name was Gale--Dick Gale. The girl was with him safe an'
well; but her sweetheart, the soldier, bein' away without leave, had
to go back sudden. There shore was some trouble, for Jim an' me
heard shootin'. Gale said he had no money, no friends, was a
stranger in a desert country; an' he was distracted to know how
to help the girl. So me an' Jim started off with them for San
Felipe, got switched, and' then we headed for the Rio Forlorn."
"Oh, I think he was perfectly splendid!" exclaimed the girl.
"Shore he was. Only, Nell, you can't lay no claim to bein' the
original discoverer of that fact."
"But, Laddy, you haven't told me what he looks like."
At this juncture Dick Gale felt it absolutely impossible for him
to play the eavesdropper any longer. Quietly he rolled out of bed.
The voices still sounded close outside, and it was only by effort
that he kept from further listening. Belding's kindly interest,
Laddy's blunt and sincere cowboy eulogy, the girl's sweet eagerness
and praise--these warmed Gale's heart. He had fallen among simple
people, into whose lives the advent of an unknown man was welcome.
He found himself in a singularly agitated mood.
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