Jennifer laughed, glancing at Tempest where the light struck on him from the broad-brimmed Stetson hat down the straight-run body to the light spurred boots.
"He told me to bring the rig over for him this afternoon," she explained. "I left it in the Hudson Bay yard. But if he is in there"
She nodded towards the hotel with her small, delicate face troubled, and Slicker patted her shoulder. Ducane was J.P. for the district, but men had no occasion to honour him therefore.
"I'll go hunt him out for you, honey. It's no place for you. I'll get him."
He loped over the dusty road and in through the doors where a cluster of breeds showed black as bees on the comb. Tempest turned, keeping step with Jennifer, past the barracks where blew the flag that spoke the law of the English to the solitudes, and round the little post-office, into the Hudson Bay yard. He knew Ducane as it was his business to know men, and he knew small good of him. The man had that big, blustering way of mind and body which so many women mistake for manliness and so many men do not mistake for something else; and since he had brought his month-old wife to Grey Wolf three short weeks ago Ducane had not improved to any noticeable extent.
Jennifer patted the pony; cuddled it, and kissed its nose, investing each movement with that quaint and delicate charm which made men forget her lack of beauty and remember her. Then she laughed up into Tempest's grave eyes.
"Come back to supper. I'll make you some corn-cake," she said.
"Sorry." Tempest did not smile. "I fancy I'm needed here to-night. Too many trackers about. Why, no—I don't imagine there'll be trouble. But I must be on deck. The other men are away."
"Your arm is just out of the sling. If any of them"
"They won't. Besides, that's what I'm here for." He laughed now. "I am not scared," he said.
"Well, of course—a man never is," she said.
