Lucy blushed, and it was a consciousness of confusion as well as Slone's tone
that made her half-angry.
"She said when I was found out there'd be a--a great fuss at the Ford. There
would be talk. Auntie said I'm now a grown-up girl. . . . Oh, she carried on!
. . . Bostil would likely shoot you. And if he didn't some of the riders
would. . . . Oh, Lin, it was perfectly ridiculous the way Auntie talked."
"I reckon not," replied Slone. "I'm afraid I've done wrong to let you come out
here. . . . But I never thought. I'm not used to girls. I'll--I'll deserve
what I get for lettin' you came."
"It's my own business," declared Lucy, spiritedly. "And I guess they'd better
let you alone."
Slone shook his head mournfully. He was getting one of those gloomy spells
that Lucy hated. Nevertheless, she felt a stir of her pulses.
"Lucy, there won't be any doubt about my stand--when I meet Bostil," said
Slone. Some thought had animated him.
"What do you mean?" Lucy trembled a little.
There was a sternness about Slone, a dignity that seemed new.
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