I--I'm thinking uh drifting down into New
Mexico. I--I want to see that country, bad."

Dill crossed his long legs the other way, let his hands drop loosely,
and stared wistfully at Billy. "I really wish I could induce you to
stay, William," he murmured.

"Well, yuh can't. I hope yuh come through better than yuh did with the
Double-Crank--but I guess it'll be some considerable time before the
towns and the gentle farmer (damn him!) are crowded to the wall by
your damn' Progress." It was the first direct protest against changing
conditions which Billy had so far put into words, and he looked sorry
for having said so much. "Oh, here's your little blue book," he added,
feeling it in his pocket. "I found it behind the trunk when everything
else was packed."

"You saw--er--you saw Bridger, then? He is going to take his wife and
Flora up North with him in the spring. It seems he has done well."

"I know--he told me."

Dill turned the leaves of the book slowly, and consciously refrained
from looking at Billy. "They were about to leave when I was there. It
is a shame. I am very sorry for Flora--she does not want to go. If--"
He cleared his throat again and guiltily pretended to be reading
a bit, here and there, and to be speaking casually. "If I were
a marrying man, I am not sure but I should make love to
Flora--h-m-m!--this 'Bachelor's Complaint' here--have you read it,
William? It is very--here, for instance--'Nothing is to me more
distasteful than the entire complacency and satisfaction which beam in
the countenances of a new-married couple'--and so on. I feel tempted
sometimes when I look at Flora--only she looks upon me as a--er--piece
of furniture--the kind that sticks out in the way and you have to feel
your way around it in the dark--awkward, but necessary. Poor girl,
she cried in the most heartbroken way when I told her we would not be
likely to see her again, and--I wonder what is the trouble between her
and Walland? They used to be quite friendly, in a way, but she has not
spoken to him, to my certain knowledge, since last spring. Whenever
he came to the ranch she would go to her room and refuse to come out
until he had left. H-m-m! Did she ever tell you, William?"

"No," snapped William huskily, smoking with his head bent and turned
away.

"I know positively that she cut him dead, as they say, at the last
Fourth-of-July dance. He asked her to dance, and she refused
almost rudely and immediately got up and