"Wall," commented Lawton, after a pause, "that is a good drink. Reckon
I must be goin'."
"Stay t' grub!" urged Old Mizzou heartily.
"Folks waitin'. Remember!"
They looked at Bennington and chuckled a little, to that young man's
discomfort.
"Lawton's a damn fine fella'," said Old Mizzou with emphasis.
Bennington thought, with a shudder, of the loose-skinned, turkey-red
neck, and was silent.
After supper Bennington and Old Mizzou played cribbage by the light of
a kerosene lamp.
"While I was hunting claims this afternoon," said the Easterner
suddenly, "I ran across a mighty pretty girl."
"Yas?" observed Old Mizzou with indifference. "What fer a gal was it?"
"She didn't look as if she belonged around here. She was a slender
girl, very pretty, with a pink dress on."
"Ain't no female strangers yar-abouts. Blue eyes?"
"Yes."
"An' ha'r that sometimes looks black an' sometimes yaller-brown?"
"Yes, that's the one all right. Who is she?"
"Oh, that!" said Old Mizzou with slight interest, "that's Bill
Lawton's girl. Live's down th' gulch. He's th' fella' that was yar
afore grub," he explained.
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