"It's too hot to do much of anything," he said apologetically.
"We might take a ride, if you don't mind the heat."
"You don't want to ride," she objected petulantly. "Why didn't
you go with Good Indian?" he countered.
"Because I didn't want to. And I do wish you'd quit calling him
that; he has a real name, I believe."
"If you're looking for a scrap," grinned Jack, "I'll stake you to
my six gun, and you can go down and kill off a few of those
claim-jumpers. You seem to be in just about the proper frame uh
mind to murder the whole bunch. Fly at it!"
"It begins to look as if we women would have to do something,"
she retorted cruelly. "There doesn't seem to be a man on the
ranch with spirit enough to stop them from digging up the
whole--"
"I guess that'll be about enough," Jack interrupted her, coldly.
"Why didn't you say that to Good Indian?"
"I told you not to call him that. I don't see why everybody is
so mean to-day. There isn't a person--"
When Jack laughed, he shut his eyes until he looked through
narrow slits under heavy lashes, and showed some very nice teeth,
and two deep dimples besides the one which always stood in his
chin.
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