"
Pierre stirred uneasily in his saddle. A man must be well over thirty
before he can withstand ridicule.
He said dryly: "I've an idea that I know Jack's about as well as the
next man." "Let it drop," said Wilbur, sober again, for he shared
with all of Boone's crew a deep-rooted unwillingness to press Red
Pierre beyond a certain point. "The one subject I won't quarrel about
is Jack, God bless her."
"She's the best pal," said Pierre soberly, "and the nearest to a man
I've ever met."
"Nearest to a man?" queried Wilbur, and smiled, but so furtively that
even the sharp eye of Red Pierre did not perceive the mockery. He went
on: "But the dance, what of that? It's a masquerade. There'd be no
fear of being recognized."
Pierre was silent a moment more. Then he said: "This girl--what did
you call her?"
"Mary."
"And about her hair--I think you said it was black?"
"Golden, Pierre."
"Mary, and golden hair," mused Red Pierre. "I think I'll go to that
dance."
"With Jack? She dances wonderfully, you know.
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