Whispering Smith
“except for perishable things!” Then, as if acknowledging her disadvantage, she added, swinging her bridle-rein around, “I am under obligations for the offer, just the same.”
“At least, won’t you let your horse drink?” McCloud threw the force of an appeal into his words, and Dicksie stopped her preparations and appeared to waver.
“Jim is pretty thirsty, I suppose. Have you plenty of water?”
“A tender full. Had I better lead him down while you wait up on the hill in the shade?”
“Can’t I ride him down?”
“It would be pretty rough riding.”
“Oh, Jim goes anywhere,” she said, with her attractive indifference to situations. “If you don’t mind helping me mount.”
“With pleasure.”
She stood waiting for his hand, and McCloud stood, not knowing just what to do. She glanced at him expectantly. The sun grew intensely hot.
“You will have to show me how,” he stammered at last.
“Don’t you know?”
He mentally cursed the technical education that left him helpless at such a moment, but it was useless to pretend. “Frankly, I don’t!”
“Just give me your hand. Oh, not in that way!
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