"You certainly don't lose no time, do you, Lafe Johnson?"

"I don't aim to." His voice was shaky.

All that pa.s.sed at the ball was perceived by Buffalo, who became greatly exercised the next day over Lafe's extraordinary behavior. Instead of establishing himself at pitch in the Fashion's back room, Johnson mooned about town, or stared absently at the dust of the street whilst he leaned against a post and whittled a stick. It was not as though he had no money, for Jim had staked him. The cowboy took counsel of friends.

Buffalo Jim was disposed to hold Miss Hawes lightly.

"I ain't no prude," he explained. "You boys know that right well.

You-all know me. I like a girl what's got ginger. But I don't figure on marrying a whole can of it, nor I don't calculate to see ol' Lafe get it smeared over him that way, neither."

"Well, what're you aiming to do?"

"Leave it to me. I'll fix it," said Jim.

CHAPTER V

AN INCIPIENT LOVE AFFAIR

In the afternoon Johnson called on Miss Hawes at the Cowboys' Rest, where she bathed dishes and did other useful tasks. She was wearing a pink dress with the neck cut low, and looked very neat and wholesome.

n.o.body but a woman would have guessed that she had expected him.

The sight of her put the finishing touches to Lafe. Within half an hour, he was lost in speculation as to whether he could command sixty dollars a month if he went to work for the Lazy L. And perhaps he might be given the Ajos camp, with its comfortable adobe house and rosebushes in the yard? He pictured her there. Lafe could almost hear the wild doves cooing in the scrub-oak canon.

Grace made him sing.

Come, all you wild rovers, pay 'tention to me While I tell to you my sad historee.

I'm a man of experience, no favors to gain; Love's been the ruin of many a man.

He droned it through his nose, with sharp yelps at the end of each line, like a coyote in the full swing of his nightly paroxysm.

"I don't like that song," she said decidedly. "Cut it out. It's fierce."

"I reckon it ain't true," Lafe admitted lamely, and tried another, a plaintive ditty of Little Joe, the horse wrangler.

Hardly had he finished than Moffatt knocked and was admitted. Steve had on a new, yellow silk neckerchief, and Johnson cursed his want of foresight in not purchasing some finery. To-morrow that would be rectified: he recalled a green one he had seen in the store window.

The gunfighter let two six-shooters slip from his waist when he entered, depositing them carefully on a chair. Local ordinances do not permit the carrying of firearms in Badger, and Johnson was interested.

"You travel well heeled?" he remarked.

"Yes," said Moffatt, "but I don't talk about it."

"Do you know, I'm always scared to pack a gun," Lafe went on pleasantly.

"You'll never see me with one, Miss Hawes."

"Why not? I like them. They look so cute."

"I'm always scared somebody'll twist the sights off'n it, or take the doggone thing away and slap me."

"Some fellers do get hurt trying for to pack a gun," Steve said. He added critically: "You look stout enough."

"I'm feeling pretty tol'able fair, thanks."

When Lafe got home that night, Jim was sitting up for him, thumping his heels against the edge of the bed. He was so much concerned for his friend that he did not feel like sleep. After a tentative puff or two on a cigarette, and some coughing, he got it out. Did Lafe know that Grace Hawes--Johnson silenced him curtly, and they lay down, back to back. But Buffalo was undaunted by a sleepless night. His was a staunch soul, and early next morning he repaired to the Cowboys' Rest to interview Miss Hawes.

"You say he's been married before?" Grace cried. "Lafe Johnson is married now, you say?"

"Sh.o.r.e," said Jim, with a friendly smile. "That's a way ol' Lafe has. He don't mean no harm, Miss Grace. He's just naturally playful. It's sort of a habit he's got, getting married--sort of a hobby like."

"Hobby? I'll hobby him--hobby him good. How often has he had the habit?

How many wives has he got now, Mr. Buf'lo?"

"Oh, not a great many. I don't rightly know, but--"

"And these--these wives and fam'lies? Where are they?"

"There ain't many fam'lies," Jim corrected, beginning to regret his interference. "Not a great many fam'lies, Miss Hawes. Just a few, scattered here and there."

"Get out!" said Miss Hawes. "Get out, and don't you never show your face round here again. Married? Huh, you can't go to fool me! You quit trying to crowd into my affairs or it'll be the worse for you, Mr.

Buf'lo."

"Certainly, ma'am. Certainly, Miss Grace," Jim said, seizing his hat.

"Excuse me, ma'am, will you, please?"

He decided to say nothing of the visit to Lafe.

When Johnson reached the Cowboys' Rest that evening, Moffatt was already ensconced in the wicker rocking-chair. Lafe was momentarily cast down. A conference had revealed that he and Buffalo had no more money. They must go in search of work without delay.

"Oh, Mr. Lafe," was Grace's greeting, "guess what! I've been asking Steve about shooting, and he done promised to keep a can in the air for five shots to-morrow."

"That's good shooting," said Johnson, accepting a chair.

"Ain't it wonderful? I do love a man who can shoot. When I marry, I want a man who knows how to keep other men scared. I used to tell my sister back in Abilene--she ain't like me. No, indeed. She's a society lady, my sister is. I done said to her, 'Mary Lou, when--'"

"Yes, it takes nerve to be a gunfighter," Lafe interrupted.

"Oh, it's grand, I think." Miss Hawes clasped her hands and rolled her eyes.

"Yes, sir; yes, ma'am, it sure takes nerve. A gunfighter always gives the other feller an even break. And he don't care how even it is, does he, Moffatt?"

"I don't take you," Moffatt said doubtfully.

"Why, there's all kinds of nerve in this world, Miss Hawes," said Lafe.

"When a man knows he's better at a thing than the next man, he's liable to be awful nervy. Take a bronc buster, now. He knows he can clean a horse, and he ain't scared so you could notice it. And a gunman. If the other feller was a mite quicker, I wonder if he'd--What do you think?"