They chatted about the rodeo, and the news of the countryside--for it
had been several weeks since they had met--and so reached the point of
the last ridge before you come to the ranch. Then Patches asked, "May we
ride over there on the ridge, and sit for a while in the shade of that
old cedar, for a little talk? It's early yet, and it's been ages since
we had a pow-wow."
Reaching the point which Patches had chosen, they left their horses and
made themselves comfortable on the brow of the hill, overlooking the
wide valley meadow and the ranches.
"And now," said Kitty, looking at him curiously, "what's the talk, Mr.
Honorable Patches?"
"Just you," said Patches, gravely.
"Me?"
"Your own charming self," he returned.
"But, please, good sir, what have I done?" she asked. "Or, perhaps, it's
what have I not done?"
"Or perhaps," he retorted, "it's what you are going to do."
"Oh!"
"Miss Reid, I am going to ask you a favor--a great favor."
"Yes?"
"You have known me now almost a year."
"Yes."
"And, yet, to be exact, you do not know me at all."
She did not answer, but looked at him steadily.
"And that, in a way," he continued, "makes it easy for me to ask the
favor; that is, if you feel that you can trust me ever so little--trust
me, I mean, to the extent of believing me sincere.
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