"There's nothing so snaky about her that I could see," defended Rowdy. He
did not particularly relish having his own mental argument against Miss
Conroy thrown back at him from another. "She seemed to be all right; and if
you'd seen how plucky she was in that blizzard--"

"Well, I never heard anybody stand up and call Harry white-livered, when yuh
come t' that," Pink cut in tartly. "Anyway, you're a blame fool. If she was
a little white-winged angel, yuh wouldn't stand no kind uh show; and I tell
yuh why. She's got a little tin god that she says prayers to regular.

That's Harry. And wouldn't he be the fine brother-in-law? He could borrow
all your wages off'n yuh, and when yuh went t' make a pretty ride, he'd up
and cut your latigo, and give yuh a fall. And he could work stolen horses
off onto yuh--and yuh wouldn't give a damn, 'cause Jessie wears a number two
shoe--"

"You must have done some rimrock riding after her yourself!" jeered Rowdy.

"And has got shiny brown eyes, just like Harry's--"

"They're not!" laughed Rowdy, half-angrily. "If you say that again, Pink,
I'll stick your head in a snow-bank. Her eyes are all right. They sure look
good to me."

"You've sure got 'em," mourned Pink. "Yuh need t' be close-herded by your
friends, and that's no dream. You wait till toward evening before yuh take
that horse back. I'm going along t' chappyrone yuh, Rowdy. Yuh ain't safe
running loose any more."