Chapter 10. Wherein Andy Green Lies to a Lady - Page 2

lark startled in the middle of his song, thought Andy whimsically.

He came within sight of the cabin, squatting in the shadow of the grove at its back. He half expected ,to see a light, but the window was dark, the door closed as he had left it. He felt a faint, unreasoning disappointment that it was so. But he had heard her. That high note that lingered upon the word "here" still tingled his senses. His eyes sent seeking glances here and there as he rode up.

Then a horse nickered welcomingly, and someone rode out from the deeper shadow at the corner of the cabin, hesitated as though tempted to flight, and came on uncertainly. They met full before the cabin, and the woman leaned and peered through the dusk at Andy.

"Is this--Mr. Mallory--Irish?" she asked nervously. "Oh dear! Have I gone and made a fool of myself again?"

"Not at all! Good evening, Miss Allen." Andy folded his hands upon the saddle horn and regarded her with a little smile, Keen for what might come next.

"But you're not Irish Mallory. I thought I recognized the voice, or I wouldn't have--" She urged her horse a step closer, and Andy observed from her manner that she was not accustomed to horses. She reined as if she were driving, so that the horse, bewildered, came sidling up to him. "Who are you?" she asked him sharply.

"Me? Why, I'm a nice young man--a lot better singer than Irish. I guess you never heard him, did you?" He kept his hands folded on the horn, his whole attitude passive--a restful, reassuring passivity that lulled her uneasiness more than words could have done.

"Oh, are you Andy Green? I seem to connect that name with your voice--and what little I can see of you."

"That's something, anyway." Andy's tone was one of gratitude. "It's two per cent. better than having to tell you right out who I am. I met you three different times, Miss Allen," he reproached.

"But always in a crowd," she defended, "and I never talked with you, particularly."

"Oh, well, that's easily fixed," he said. "It's a nice night," he added, looking up appreciatively at the brightening star-sprinkle. "Are you living on your claim now? We can talk particularly on the way over."

Miss Allen laughed and groped for a few loose hairs, found them and tucked them carefully under her hatcrown. Andy remembered that gesture; it helped him to visualize her clearly in spite of the deepening night.

"How far have you ridden today, Mr. Green?" she asked irrelevantly.

"Since daylight, you mean? Not so very far counting miles--We were trailing a herd, you see. But I've been in the saddle since sunrise, except when I was eating."

"Then you want a cup of coffee, before you ride any farther. If I