He
saw how the matter lay between Dick Gale and his father.
"Well, Mr. Gale, sure most young bucks from the East go to the bad
out here," he said, bluntly.
"I've been told that," replied Mr. Gale; and a shade overspread his
worn face.
"They blow their money, then go punching cows, take to whiskey."
"Yes," rejoined Mr. Gale, feebly nodding.
"Then they get to gambling, lose their jobs," went on Belding.
Mr. Gale lifted haggard eyes.
"Then it's bumming around, regular tramps, and to the bad
generally." Belding spread wide his big arms, and when one of
them dropped round Nell, who sat beside him, she squeezed his
hand tight. "Sure, it's the regular thing," he concluded,
cheerfully.
He rather felt a little glee at Mr. Gale's distress, and Mrs. Gale's
crushed I-told-you-so woe in no wise bothered him; but the look
in the big, dark eyes of Dick's sister was too much for Belding.
He choked off his characteristic oath when excited and blurted
out, "Say, but Dick Gale never went to the bad!...Listen!"
Belding had scarcely started Dick Gale's story when he perceived
that never in his life had he such an absorbed and
breathless audience. Presently they were awed, and at the
conclusion of that story they sat white-faced, still, amazed beyond
speech. Dick Gale's advent in Casita, his rescue of Mercedes, his
life as a border ranger certainly lost no picturesque or daring or
even noble detail in Belding's telling. He kept back nothing but
the present doubt of Dick's safety.
Pages:
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312