"What
you cacklin' at, Mac?" he demanded, in a low voice.
"Oh, the things I notice," returned that youth jauntily, meeting
the other's anger without the flicker of an eyelid.
"It ain't healthy to be so noticin'," insinuated the other.
"Y'u don't say," came the prompt, sarcastic retort. "If you're
such a darned good judge of health, y'u better be attending to
some of your patients." He jerked a casual thumb over his
shoulder toward the bunks on which lay the wounded men.
"I shouldn't wonder but what there might be another patient for
me to attend to," snarled the foreman.
"That so? Well, turn your wolf loose when y'u get to feelin' real
devilish," jeered the undismayed one, strolling forward to assist
Miss Messiter to alight.
The mistress of the Lazy D had been aware of the byplay, but she
had caught neither the words nor their import. She took the
offered brown hand smilingly, for here again she looked into the
frank eyes of the West, unafraid and steady. She judged him not
more than twenty-two, but the school where he had learned of life
had held open and strenuous session every day since he could
remember.
"Glad to meet y'u, ma'am," he assured her, in the current phrase
of the semi-arid lands.
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