“Don't squirm, Mr. Kelly. I won't bite, if I do buzz sometimes.”
Kelly stared at her meditatively a minute, and said: “Well, I'll be damned!”
Keith looked at her also, but he did not say anything.
The way he slapped his saddle back upon Redcloud and cinched it, and saddled Rex, was a pretty exhibition of precision and speed, learned in roundup camps. Kelly watched him grimly.
“I knowed you wasn't as swift as yuh knew how 't be, a while back,” he commented. “I've got this t' say fur you two: You're a little the toughest proposition I ever run up ag'inst--and I've been up ag'inst it good and plenty.”
“Thanks,” Keith said cheerfully. “You'd better take Rex now and go ahead, Miss Lansell. I'll take that gun and look after this fellow. Get up, Kelly.”
Kelly got unsteadily upon his feet. Beatrice looked at him, and then at Keith. She asked a question.
“March him home, and send him in to the nearest sheriff.” Keith was businesslike, and his tone was crisp.
Beatrice's eyes turned again to Kelly. He did not whine, or beg, or even curse. He stood looking straight before him, at something only his memory could see, and in his face was weariness, and a deep loneliness, and a certain, grim despair. There was an ugly bruise where the rock had struck, but the rest of his face was drawn and white.
“If you do that,” cried Beatrice, in a voice hardly more than a fierce whisper, “I shall hate you always. You are not a man-hunter. Let him stay here, and take his chance in the hills.”
Keith was not a hard man to persuade into being merciful. “It's easy enough to say yes, Miss Lansell. I always was chicken-hearted when a fellow seemed down on his luck. You can stay here, Kelly--I don't want you, anyway.” He laughed boyishly and irresponsibly, for he felt that Kelly had done him a service that day.
Beatrice flashed him a smile that went to his head and made him dizzy, and took up Rex's bridle rein. She hesitated, looked doubtfully at Kelly, who stood waiting stoically, and turned to her saddle. She untied a bundle and went quickly over to him.
“You--I don't want my lunch, after all. I'm going home now. I--I want you to take it, please. There are some sandwiches--with veal loaf, that Looey Sam makes deliciously--and some cake. I--I wish it was more. I know you'll like the veal loaf.”