And I hated you--because I knew all the
time that you were prettier than I am. And--and I was ashamed of Pete,
and I made fun of him--and now he has gone away and--and I love him. I
don't care if he has got red hair and can't read! I love him--so
there!"
Lonesome Pete, coming back with his armful of firewood, dropped it,
and for a moment stood staring from one to another, his mouth wide
open. And then, forgetful of Conniston, pushing Argyl away as he came
forward, he took Jocelyn's quivering form into his arms and drew her
close to him.
"Miss Jocelyn," he cried, suddenly, "I ain't goin' away! Don't you
think it. An' you ain't to blame for nothin' whatever! You're jest a
little girl as has made a slip or two--who in hell ain't, huh?"--with
belligerent, flashing eyes--"an' I'll dye my hair any color you say as
you like better 'n red!"
* * * * *
"I am going East to-morrow, Mr. Conniston." Jimmie Kent was speaking,
his eyes very keen. "Before I go I'd like to make you a proposition.
First, do you know what firm it is I represent? Maybe you have heard
of the W. I. R.? That means the Western Improvement and Reclamation
Company. The board of directors met the other day in Denver, and
against his protest made Mr. Crawford its first vice-president. The
company plans on the reclamation of many thousands of square miles of
sand and sage-brush in Colorado and Nevada.
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