They're all
I've had, and she's been--they've all been--" Then the instinct
of repression walled in his emotion, and he let the rest go in a
long breath which told Miss Georgie all she needed to know. So
much of Good Indian would never find expression in speech; all
that was best of him would not, one might be tempted to think.
"By the way, is there any pay dirt on that ranch?" Miss Georgie
kept herself rigidly to the main subject.
"No, there isn't. Not," he added dryly, "unless it has grown
gold in the last few years. There are colors, of course. All
this country practically can show colors, but pay dirt? No!"
"Look out," she advised him slowly, "that pay dirt doesn't grow
over night! Sabe?"
Good Indian's eyes spoke admiration of her shrewdness.
"I must be getting stupid, not to have thought of that," he said.
"Can't give me credit for being 'heap smart'?" she bantered.
"Can't even let me believe I thought of something beyond the ken
of the average person? Not," she amended ironically, "that I
consider YOU an average person! Would you mind"--she became
suddenly matter of fact--"waiting here while I go and rummage for
a book I want? I'm almost sure I have one on mining laws.
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