He was as happy as one of his restless nature could properly hope to be, but sometimes when he thought of Mary his heart ached a little; he forgot her only when his imagination set wing into the sunset sky.
One other thing troubled him a little.

Rude, plain Jennie was in love with him.

Daily intercourse with a youngster half as attractive as Mose would have had the same effect upon her, for she was at that age when propinquity makes sentiment inevitable.

She could scarcely keep her eyes from him during hours in camp, and on the drive she rode with him four times as long as he wished for.

She bothered him, and yet she was so good and generous he could not rebuff her; he could only endure.
She had one accomplishment: she could ride like a Sioux, either astride or womanwise, with a saddle or without, and many a race they had as the roads grew firm and dry.