Marie, forsooth! (Only, Bud put it in a slightly different way.) Halfway to the flat, he met Cash walking down the slope where the trail seemed tunneled through deep green, so thick stood the young spruce.
Cash was swinging his arms in that free stride of the man who has learned how to walk with the least effort.

He did not halt when he saw Bud plodding slowly up the trail, but came on steadily, his keen, blue-gray eyes peering sharply from beneath his forward tilted hat brim.
He came up to within ten feet of Bud, and stopped.
"Well!" He stood eyeing Bud appraisingly, much as Bud had eyed Frank a couple of hours before.

"I was just starting out to see what had become of you," he added, his voice carrying the full weight of reproach that the words only hinted at.
"Well, get an eyeful, if that's what you come for.

I'm here--and lookin's cheap." Bud's anger flared at the disapproval he read in Cash's eyes, his voice, the set of his lips.
But Cash did not take the challenge.

"Did the report come ?" he asked, as though that was the only matter worth discussing.
Bud pulled the letter sullenly from his pocket and gave it to Cash.