While he waited for the trickle to yield him a drink, he cocked his head sidewise and looked up quizzically at his "heavy." "You must have come within speaking distance, Gil," he guessed shrewdly.

"Got any make-up along?
You look like a mild case of the measles, right now.

What did she have to say, anyhow ?" "Nothing," said Gil shortly.

"I didn't talk to her at all.

I didn't want to run my horse to death trying to say hello when she didn't want it that way." "Huh!" grunted Robert Grant Burns unbelievingly, and fished a bit of grass out of the cup with his little finger.