"Well?" she questioned.
"Most women would have read it," he said. He got up and went outside,
leaving her to look after him, not knowing whether he had meant to
compliment her or not.
He found Dade and Malcolm standing near the stable. There was a
brilliant moon. At Dade's invitation they all went down to the
bunkhouse. In spite of the dilapidated appearance of its exterior, the
interior of the building was in comparatively good condition--due to
the continual tinkering of Malcolm, who liked to spend his idle hours
there--and Malcolm lighted a candle, placed it on the rough table, took
a deck of cards from the shelf, and the three played "pitch" for two
hours. At the end of that time Malcolm said he was going to bed. Dade
signified that he intended doing likewise. He occupied half of
Calumet's bed. Since the day following the clash with Dade, Calumet
had insisted on this.
"Just to show you that what you said ain't botherin' me a heap," he had
told Dade. "You're still yearlin' and need some one to keep an eye on
you, so's some careless son of a gun won't herd-ride you."
That Dade accepted this in the spirit in which it was spoken made it
possible for them to bunk together in amity. If Dade had "sized up"
Calumet, the latter had made no mistake in Dade.
Dade snuffed out the candle and followed Malcolm out.
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