The Man From The Bitter Roots - Page 182/191

Ore City fairly purred. Was she married? There was a general movement--a surreptitious smoothing of back hair--an apologetic fumbling at the spot sacred to neckties. The judge buttoned up the two remaining buttons of his waistcoat. Lannigan concealed his hands.

The shadow of a grin flitted across John Burt's face, for he sometimes saw and heard more than was generally believed.

"If you was aimin' to stay any length of time, ma'am," Yankee Sam fished innocently, "we kin git up a picnic and show you somethin' of the country when the snow goes off. About three days' ride from here I know a real nice view."

Helen thanked him adequately and explained that she was not sure how long she would remain. "I should like to stay, though," she added, "long enough to see the boom."

Ore City sat up as if she had said, "bomb."

"By the way, I wonder, if Mr. Griswold is here?"

It was Uncle Bill then! He'd ought to be lynched. It was sickening the luck some people had.

Uncle Bill came forward wonderingly.

"Here I be."

Helen put out a friendly hand: "You don't know me, of course, but I've heard a great deal about you."

"I'm most afraid to ask what it is, ma'am, for lyin' and stealin' is the only crimes I denies."

"I'll tell you when I know you better," Helen laughed, "because I hope we're going to be good friends."

He looked keenly into her face. "I wouldn't never look for any trouble between you and me, ma'am. Shake." He added with a smile: "I ain't got so many friends that I kin afford to turn one down."

"You'll have enough of them shortly," Helen smiled. "I know the world sufficiently well to be sure of that. I hope I'm the first to congratulate you on your good fortune. Mr. Dill has told me something of your luck. He says you're going to be the saviour of the camp."

"I been crucified a-plenty," Uncle Bill replied, with a significant look at Ore City sitting with its mouth agape, "but," modestly, "I wouldn't hardly like to go as far as to call myself that."