Part 29 (1/2)

”Sure! Is dad gone?”

”Yes. He left here last night. I thought Miss Gray was with you,” said Bartley.

”Sure! She had to come to town to buy some things. She's over to Hodges'

now.”

Dorothy had not waited for him to appear. Bartley was a bit piqued. But he asked himself why should he be? They were the merest acquaintances.

True, they had spent several hours together, reading and discussing verse. But no doubt that had been purely impersonal, on her part. With Little Jim as his guide, Bartley entered Hodges' general store. Dorothy was at the back of the store making purchases. Bartley watched her a moment. He felt a tug at his sleeve.

”The guns is over on this side,” declared Little Jim.

”We'll have to wait until Mr. Hodges gets through waiting on Miss Gray,”

said Bartley.

Little Jim scampered across the aisle and stood on tiptoe peering into a showcase. There were pistols, cheap watches, and a pair of spurs.

Little Jim gazed a moment and then shot over to Dorothy. ”Say, Dorry, can't you hurry up? Me and Mr. Bartley are waitin' to look at that twenty-two in the window.”

”Now, Jimmy! Oh, how do you do!” And Dorothy greeted Bartley with considerable poise for a young woman who was as interested in the Easterner as she was.

”Don't let us interrupt you,” said Bartley. ”Our business can wait.”

Little Jim scowled, and grimaced at Dorothy, who excused herself to Bartley and went on making her purchases. They were really insignificant purchases--some pins, some thread, and a roll of binding tape.

Insignificant as they were, Bartley offered to carry them to the wagon for her. Dorothy declined his offer and took them to the wagon herself.

”Now for that rifle,” said Bartley.

Little Jim, itching all over to get hold of that new and s.h.i.+ning weapon, squirmed as Hodges took it from the window and handed it to Bartley.

Bartley examined it and pa.s.sed it over to Little Jim.

”Is that the kind you wanted?” he asked.

”This is her! Twenty-two, long or short, genuwine repeater.” Jimmy pretended to read the tags tied to the trigger guard. ”Yep! This is her.”

”And some cartridges,” suggested Bartley.

”How many?” queried the storekeeper.

”All you got,” said Little Jim.

But Bartley's good nature was not to be imposed upon to that extent.

”Give us five boxes, Mr. Hodges.”

”That cleans me out of twenty-twos,” declared Hodges.