The Land of Strong Men Part 51

"I know you didn't, but it might be true, all the same. We can't be married for a long time."

"Why can't we?" the lover demanded.

"For a number of perfectly good reasons," Jean replied, a grave little pucker coming upon her forehead.

"Wrinkles!" cried Chetwood. "But I'll love you just as much when--"

"Well, goodness knows, I've enough worries without getting married."

"Cynic!"

"Maybe, but I hope I have some horse sense. Now to start with, Billy--and please don't be offended--I'd like you to make good, more or less, before I marry you."

"In what way?"

"Well, I'd like you to have a ranch of your own."

"Any special one?"

"Don't joke about it," Jean reproved him. "You'll find it serious enough. As you haven't any money now you can't buy a ranch. And so you'll have to homestead."

Chetwood stared at her for a moment and gulped. "I keep forgetting I'm a hired man. Go on."

"It's doing you good. You're getting a knowledge of ranching. I think you know almost enough now to take up a homestead."

"But," Chetwood objected, "I'd have to live on the blinking thing in a beastly, lonely shack."

"Plenty of good men have lived in lonely shacks."

"I didn't mean that. I meant that I shouldn't see you more than perhaps four or five times a week. Now--"

"You may not see me at all. I'll tell you why, presently. Anyway, I wouldn't let you waste your time. I'm serious. You see, Billy--" here Miss Jean blushed--"you'd be working on your homestead for--for _us_."

"Oh, Lord!" said Chetwood. "That is--I mean--yes, of course. Inspiring thought and all that sort of thing, what? But how much nicer it would be if I were able to look forward to seeing you in our humble door as I came home weary from my daily toil, with--er--roses and honeysuckle and all that sort of thing clambering about don't you know, and the sweet odor of--of--"

"Of what, Billy?" Miss Jean prompted softly, in her eyes the expression of one who gazes upon a fair mental picture. "Of what, Billy?"

"Of pies," Chetwood replied raptly. "Ah! Um!"

"Of wha--a--t!" Miss Jean cried, coming out of her reverie with a start.

"Of pies cooking," Chetwood repeated. "Nice, juicy pies."

"Pies--bah!" Miss Jean e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

"Say not so," Chetwood responded. "I admire pie. The land of my birth, I sadly admit, is deficient in pie. But here I adopt the customs of the country. I am what might be called a pie--oneer--"

"Ugh! Awful!" Miss Jean shuddered.

"Now I thought that quite bright."

"That's the saddest part of it."

"My word, what a--er--slam! Strange that you should feel such a sincere affection for--"

"I don't know whether I do or not!"

"Then, Miss Mackay," Chetwood demanded, "what is the meaning of your conduct?"

Miss Jean bit her lip, blushed, and finally decided to laugh. "I was getting sentimental for a moment," she confessed. "Your little word picture had me going. And all the time you were fooling. That's dangerous, young man."

"No, on my word I wasn't," Chetwood protested. "I meant it. Only I got stuck for a word, and I just happened to think of--pie."

"I'm glad you did," Jean admitted. "What I like about you is that you're cheerful all the time. Angus sulks like a--a mule. So does Turkey. Oh, I do, too. We all do. But you always have a smile and a joke, though sometimes they're awful."

"Both of 'em?"

"The smiles are all right," Jean admitted. "But do you know, I've never seen you serious about anything. And it seems to me that a man who has a--well, a real purpose in life should be--now and then."

"Perhaps I never had one."

"Well, now you've got me."

"Eh! By Jove, so I have. I'll live in a shack if you say so, but I'd rather stay on here a bit. I'm learning all the time."

"That brings me to another reason. There may be no 'here' to stay on at--so far as we are concerned."

She told him the situation briefly. "And so, you see, we may not have a ranch at all. Then Angus would go away and take up land, and I might go with him."

"So would I if he'd have me. It would be rather jolly."

"Nonsense!" said Jean. "Making a new ranch isn't fun; it's hard work.

And then, on top of it all, what do you think Angus is going to do?"

"Wring old Braden's neck, I hope."

"He's going to get married!"

"Hooray!" cried Chetwood. "Nail the flag to the mast! Derry walls and no surrender! Give hostages--er--I mean that's the spirit. Also an example.

Let's follow it. What's sauce for the Mackay gander ought to be sauce for--er--"

"I'm not a goose," she pouted prettily.

"Duck!" Chetwood suggested.

"Don't be silly. It's a different proposition entirely."

"Why?" Jean did not reply. "Why, Jean?"