e one of my
dances with Bo. I only had three, an' he comes up to say this one was
his; Bo, very innocent--oh, she's a cute one!--she says, 'Why, Mister
Turner--is it really yours?' An' she looked so full of joy thet when he
says to me, 'Excoose us, friend Carmichael,' I sat there like a locoed
jackass an' let them go. But I wasn't mad at thet. He was a better
dancer than me an' I wanted her to have a good time. What started the
hell was I seen him put his arm round her when it wasn't just time,
accordin' to the dance, an' Bo--she didn't break any records gettin'
away from him. She pushed him away--after a little--after I near died.
Wal, on the way home I had to tell her. I shore did. An' she said what
I'd love to forget. Then--then, Miss Nell, I grabbed her--it was outside
here by the porch an' all bright moonlight--I grabbed her an' hugged an'
kissed her good. When I let her go I says, sorta brave, but I was plumb
scared--I says, 'Wal, are you goin' to marry me now?'"

He concluded with a gulp, and looked at Helen with woe in his eyes.

"Oh! What did Bo do?" breathlessly queried Helen.

"She slapped me," he replied. "An' then she says, I did like you best,
but NOW I hate you!' An' she slammed the door in my face."

"I think you made a great mistake," said Helen, gravely.

"Wal, if I thought so I'd beg her forgiveness. But I reckon I don't.
What's more, I feel better than before. I'm only a cowboy an' never was
much good till I met her. Then I braced. I got to havin' hopes, studyin'
books, an' you know how I've been lookin' into this ranchin' game. I
stopped drinkin' an' saved my money. Wal, she knows all thet. Once she
said she was proud of me. But it didn't seem to count big with her.
An' if it can't count big I don't want it to count at all. I reckon the
madder Bo is at me the more chance I've got. She knows I love her--thet
I'd die for her--thet I'm a changed man. An' she knows I never before
thought of darin' to touch her hand. An' she knows she flirted with
Turner."

"She's only a child," replied Helen. "And all this change--the West--the
wildness--and you boys making much of her--why, it's turned her head.
But Bo will come out of it true blue. She is good, loving. Her heart is
gold."

"I reckon I know, an' my faith can't be shook," rejoined Carmichael,
simply. "But she ought to believe thet she'll make bad blood out
here. The West is the West. Any kind of girls are scarce. An' one like
Bo--Lord! we cowboy