"Don't keer if I do," a polite form of acceptance in the California
foothills.
Presently Ransom went out. Smoky was left alone. He filled his corn-
cob pipe, stretched out his legs, and smiled, thinking of his own
brown bird. Suddenly a glint came into his bright blue eyes. In the
corner of the room, against the wall, leaned the two Sharp rifles.
Smoky glanced about him, rose, walked to the corner, bent down, and
smelt the muzzle of Ransom's rifle. Then he slipped his forefinger
into the barrel and smelt that.
"Sufferin' Moses!" he exclaimed.
His mouth was slightly twisted, as he picked up the rifle and opened
the breech. He drew out a used cartridge, which he examined with
another exclamation.
"Holy Mackinaw!"
He put the cartridge into his pocket and glanced round for the second
time. He could hear Mintie washing-up in the kitchen. Ransom was
feeding his horses. Smoky took a cleaning-rod, ran it through the
rifle, and examined the bit of cloth, which was wet and greasy. Then
he replaced the rifle and went back to the table, where Ransom found
him when he returned a few minutes later. The two men smoked in
silence. Presently Ransom said abruptly:--
"Dead struck on Mints, ain't ye?"
"I am," said Smoky laconically.
"Told her so--hay?"
"'Bout a million times."
"What does she say?"
Smoky blew some rings of smoke before he answered.
"She says--'Shucks!'"
"That don't sound encouragin'."
"It ain't. Fact is, she thinks me a clam."
"A clam?"
"That's right. She'd think a heap more o' me if I was to pull out o'
these yere hills and try to strike it somewheres else."
"Wal, squatters have made this no kind o' country for a white man.
Ye're white, John."
"I aim ter be."
"You air, sonnie. Say, if anything happened to me, would ye watch out
for Mints?"
"I wonder!"
"S'pose, fer the sake of argyment, that one o' these sons o' guns did
for me--hay?"
"'Tain't likely," said Smoky scornfully. "I'd bet my boots on you
every time."
"They may do fer me," said Ransom slowly, "and, if so----"
"I'll watch out for Mints," said Smoky very fervently.
* * * * *
Presently Mintie joined them and, sitting down, began to darn some
stockings. Apparently she was engrossed with her work, but Smoky
stared at her, noticing that her fingers trembled. Ransom smoked and
said nothing. Smoky talked, trying to challenge Mintie's interest and
attention, but sensible of failure. Moreover, he had nothing to talk
about except bad times and bad luck. Father and daughter listened
grimly, well aware that their friend and neighbour was fighting
against lack of water, a sterile soil, and a "plastered" ranch.
"Why don't you quit?" Ransom asked testily.
"I ain't a quitter."
"He don't know enough to let go," said Mintie.
"I could earn good money with my uncle in Los Angeles County. He wants
me."
Mintie tossed her head.
"If he wants you, the sooner you skin outer this the better."
"Uncle's well fixed," said Smoky, "and an old bach. He wants a live
young man to take aholt with his ranch, and a live young woman to run
the shebang. If I was married----!"
"Pity you ain't," said Mintie, without looking up.
Ransom, who had conducted his courting upon Western principles, rose
up slowly and disappeared. Left alone with his beloved, the young man
blushed and held his tongue.
"You think a heap o' the old man?" he hazarded, after an interminable
pause.
"I do. He's a man, is Pap."
"Meanin'?"
"Anything you please."
"You mean that I ain't a man?"
Mintie laughed softly; and at that moment the old dog, lying by the
hearth, got up and growled. Rebuked by Mintie, he continued growling,
while the hair upon his aged back began to bristle with rage.
"Hark!" exclaimed Mintie.
They could hear voices outside. The dog barked furiously as somebody
hammered hard upon the door.
"Who can it be?" said Mintie nervously.
Smoky Jack opened the door; four or five men came in. At the door
opposite appeared Ransom.
"What is it?" he asked harshly. "What brings you here at this time o'
night?"