The Grenada sentinel. [volume] (Grenada, Miss.) 1868-1955, 1922-07-07

without baggage either alone or escort
ed by a mann"
I'm not telling you what you ought
to have done, Mr.. Lindsay" she an.
swered, with q touch of hauteur.. "But
since you ask newly couldn't you
have given her money and let her find
q place for herselfY"
Because that wouldn't have saved
her."
"Oh, wouldn't iii" she retorted, dry
ly.
He walked over to the fireplace and
put an elbow on the corner of the
mantel.
"Lemme tell you q story, Miss Bea-
trice." he said presently. "Mebbe it'll
! show o what i mean. I was runnin'
cattle in the Galiuros five years ago
and ] got caught in q storm way up
In the hills. When 1t rains in ray part
Of Arizona, which amt often, it sure
does come down in sheets. The clay
below the rubble On the slopes got
slick as ice. My hawss, a young one,
slipped and fell on me, clawed back to
its feet, and bOlted. Well, there / wal
with my laig busted, forty miles from
even a whistlin' post in the desert,
gettin' wetter and colder every blessed
minute.
There wasn't a chance in a million
that anybody would hear, but | kept
f1rin' off my fOhty-five on the Off hope.
And just before night a girl on a pinto
came down the side of that uncurried
hill round a bend and got me. She
took me TO a cabin hidden in the bot
tom of q canon and looked after me
four days. Her father, a prospeCtor.
had gone to Tucson for supplies and
we we're alone there. She fed me.
nursed me, and waited on me. We d.
vided a one-rOOm twelve-by-siXteen
cabin. Understand, we were four
days alone together before her dad
came back, and all the time the sky
was lettin' down a terrible lot of wa
ter. When her father showed up he
grinned and said, Lucky for you Myr-
tie heard that six-gun of yore's popv
He never thought one evil thing about
either of us. He just accepted the sit
uation as necessary. Now the cues
tor is, what ought she to have done7
Left me to die on that hillside?"
"Of course not. That's different"
protested Beatrice, Indignantly.
You're trying to put me in the
wrong. Well, / won't have it. That's
all. You may take your choice, Mr..
Lindsay. Either send that girl away
give her up-have nothing to do with
her, Or"
"Or-T"
"Or please don't come here to see
me any more"
He waited, his eyes steadily on her.
DO you sure enough mean that, Miss
BeatriceT"
Her heart sank. She knew that she
had gone too far, but she was too i'm
perious to draw back now.
"Yes, that's just what l mean"
I'm sorry. You're leavin' me no OPP
ton. Tn not a yellow dog. Sometimes
I'm most a a Pm goin' to do what
l think is right"
"Of course" she responded, lightly.
IF our ideas of what that Is differ"
They do"
ITS because we've been brought I'D
differently, I suppose" She achieved
a stified little yawn behind her hand.
you've said it." He gave it to her
straight from the shoulder. "All yore
life, you've been pampered. When you
wanted a thing all you had to do was
reach out a hand for it. Folks were
born to wait on you, by yore way of it.
You're a spoiled kid. ASK me to turn
my back on a friend, and I've got to
say, 'NOthin' doin'.' And If you was
Just a few years younger I'd advise
yore pa to put you In yore room and
feed you bread and water for askin'
She clenched her hands till
The nails bit her palms. Il think you're
the most hateful man / we met" she
,ried, pa%ssiOnately.
His easy smile tainted her. "Oh,
10, you don't. You just think you think
t. Now, Pm goin' to light a shuck.
I'll be sayin'. good-by, Miss Beatrice,
Until you SEND for me-"
"And that will be Hever," she flung
It him.
He rose, bowed and walked out of
he room.
The street door closed behind him.
Beatrice bit her lip to keep from
'reaking down before she reached her
DOM.
CHAPTER XII