Part 22 (1/2)

”Well, if you will bring dust in with you, you must expect to be swept out,” Polly replied, with a show of spirit.

Polly was shaking the mat vigorously at the door when Slim said:

”I see they buried Poker Bill this mornin'.”

”Is HE dead?” It was the first Polly had heard of the pa.s.sing away of one of the characters of the Territory. She had expressed her surprise in the of an interrogation, emphasizing the ”he,” a colloquialism of the Southwest.

Slim, however, had chosen to ignore the manner of speech, and with a grin answered: ”Ye-es, that's why they buried him.”

Polly laughed in spite of herself. ”What did he die of?” she asked.

As Slim was about to take a drink at the olla, he failed to hear her.

”Eh?” he grunted.

”What did he die of?” she repeated.

”Five aces,” was the sober reply of the Sheriff, before he drained the gourd.

Polly put the broom back of the door, and was rearranging the articles on the table, before Slim could muster up enough courage to speak on the topic which was always uppermost in his mind when in her presence.

”Say, Miss Polly,” he began.

”If you've anything to say to me, Slim Hoover, just say it--I can't be bothered to-day--all the fixin's and things,” saucily advised the girl.

”Well, what I want to say is--” began the Sheriff.

At this moment Bud Lane, laboring under heavy excitement, burst open the door.

”Say, Slim, you're wanted down at the corral,” he cried, paying no heed to Polly.

”Shucks!” exclaimed the disappointed Sheriff. ”What's the row?”

”I don't know--Buck McKee--he's there with some of the Lazy K outfit.

They want to see you.”

Slim threw himself out the door with the mild expletive: ”Darn the luck!”

Bud turned quickly to Polly. ”Did Jack pay off the mortgage last week?” he almost shouted at the girl.

Polly stamped her foot in anger at what seemed to her to be a totally irrelevant question to the love-making she expected: ”How do I know?”

she angrily replied. ”If that is all you came to see me for, you can go and ask him. It makes me so dog-gone mad!”

Polly, with flushed face and knitted brow, left the bewildered Bud standing in the center of the room, asking himself what it was all about.

The sound of the voices of disputing men floated in from the corral.

Bud heard them, and comprehended its significance.