"Oh," she said; "did you hear them?"
"I reckon I heard them," he said. He went closer to her. "They're
wise--Dade an' Malcolm. Bob, too. Wiser than me. But I'm gettin'
sense, an' I'll come pretty close to bein' a man--give me time. All I
need is a boss. An' if you--"
"I reckon," said Dade, stretching himself an hour later, "that we'll
turn in. That brandin' today, an' that ridin' tonight has bushed
me--kinda."
Malcolm agreed and they stepped to the bunkhouse door.
The moonlight threw a mellow glare upon the porch of the ranchhouse
near the kitchen door. It bathed in its effulgent flood two figures,
the boss and the master, who were sitting close together--very close
together--on the porch.
The two figures came into instant focus in Dade's vision. He stepped
back with a amused growl and gave place to Malcolm, who also looked.
Silently they went back into the bunkhouse.
"I reckon," suggested Dade, from the darkness, "that if we're figgerin'
to go to bed we'll have to bunk right here. There's no tellin' when
them two will get through mushin'. An' it's been too hard a tussle for
them to have us disturbin' them now."
From the porch there came a low protest from the ally.
"Don't, Cal," she said; "don't you see that Dade and Malcolm are
watching us?"
"Jealous, I guess," he laughed.
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