Lounging on his elbow in the flickering shadows, so carelessly
insouciant in every picturesque inch of him, he seemed to radiate
the melodrama of the untamed frontier, just as her guest of
tarnished reputation now at the ranch seemed to breathe forth its
romance.
"Sleep well, little partner. Don't be afraid; nothing can harm
you," this man had told her.
Promptly she had answered, "I'm not afraid, thank you, in the
least"; and after a mornent had added, not to seem hostile, "Good
night, big partner."
But despite her calm assurance she knew she did not feel so
entirely safe as if it had been one of her own ranch boys on the
other side of the fire, or even that other vagabond who had made
so direct an appeal to her heart. If she were not afraid, at
least she knew some vague hint of anxiety.
She was still thinking of him when she fell asleep, and when she
awakened the first sound that fell on her ears was his tuneful
whistle. Indeed she had an indistinct memory of him in the night,
wrapping the blankets closer about her when the chill air had
half stirred her from her slumber. The day was still very young,
but the abundant desert light dismissed sleep summarily.
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