"Well, anyway," he summed up at bedtime with a somewhat doubtful satisfaction, "I guess she's kinda got over the notion that I'm so blame comfortable--like I was an old grandpa-setting-in-the-corner. She's got to get over it, by thunder! I ain't got to that point yet; hell, no! I should say I hadn't!"
It is a fact that when he rode away just after sunrise next morning (he would have given much if duty and his pride had permitted him to linger a while) no one could have accused him of being in any degree a comfortable young man. For his last sight of Miss Bridger had been the flutter of her when she disappeared through the stable door.