" Ford's tone was reprehensibly regretful.
"You do look as if you'd put it all under your belt," Mason retorted
dryly. "Left anything behind?"
"Some spoiled beauties, and a nice new jail that was built by my
admiring townspeople, with my name carved over the door. I didn't stay
for the dedication services. Sunset was getting all fussed up over me
and I thought I'd give them a chance to settle their nerves; loss of
sleep sure plays hell with folks when their nerves are getting frazzly."
He smiled disarmingly at Mason.
"I'd kinda lost track of you, Ches, till I got your letter. I've been
traveling pretty swift, and that's no lie. I meant to write, but--you
know how a man gets to putting things off. And then I took a notion to
ride over this way, and sample your grub for a day or so, and abuse you
a little to your face, you old highbinder!"
"Sure. I've been kinda looking for you, too. But--I wish you hadn't
quite so big an assortment of battle-signs, Ford. Kate's got ideals and
prejudices--and she don't know all your little personal traits. She's
heard a lot about you, of course. We was married right after we came
outa the North, you know, and of course--Well, you know how a woman sops
up adventure stories; and seeing you was the star performer--"
"And that's a lie," Ford put in modestly, albeit a trifle bluntly.
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