The Angel of the Gila Part 35

Again she saw his look of amus.e.m.e.nt, and struggled with her heavy load, knowing full well that she could not carry him far.

"No, you must not carry him," he said firmly. "He is too heavy for you." And without more ado, he took Bobbie from her arms.

"Come," he said amicably, "we'll both take him home--to Mrs.

Carmichael's."

So on they trudged. Bobbie roused a moment, but seeing a familiar face, he reached up his grimy hand and patted the bronzed cheeks, then cuddled comfortably into the strong arms.

"So Bobbie wanted to stay with you," he was saying.

"Yes, he calls me mither, you know."

"_I'd_ like to call you 'mither' myself some day. It's a beautiful name."

She felt provoked with herself. Why in the world had she made that unfortunate remark?

"You love children, don't you?" He was not smiling now.

"Oh, yes; from my childhood up I have loved every child I have seen."

"I see."

But at this juncture Bobbie again roused, rubbed his eyes and demanded to be put down. So Kenneth set him on his feet. The little lad stood in sleepy bewilderment a moment, then with an engaging smile, offered one hand to Esther, and the other to Kenneth. He began to chatter.

"Bobbie loves his mither."

"So do I," responded Kenneth.

Esther bit her lip. She would not look up. But she felt her cheeks flush.

"Mr. Kenneth love Bobbie's mither?"

Kenneth laughed, a free, happy laugh. It was contagious, and the child laughed too. So did Esther in spite of herself.

"Mr. Kenneth tan't love Bobbie's mither."

"Can't, eh?" Again the happy laugh. "Who says I can't?"

"I do, his adopted mother," said the girl, demurely.

"I'll just capture you the way Bobbie did, and you can't help yourself." And again the stern eyes that seldom smiled, were filled with laughter.

Esther suddenly stopped.

"_I_ can take Bobbie home."

"So can I," he said carelessly, with a suggestion of laughter still in his voice.

"I command you, Mr. Persistency, to turn about and leave me to take Bobbie home."

"I refuse to obey, Miss Obstinacy." A low chuckle.

"I suppose I'll have to endure you, then," she said, with mock seriousness.

"I suppose you will," he said. He seemed to enjoy the tilt. "But Miss Bright--." He stood still and faced her. "--I didn't know you were such a fighter. Here I have been trying to make you understand how I appreciate you, and you almost give me a black eye."

"You had two before--ever you saw me," she said.

"You have looked into them, then," he said, maliciously, "so that you know their color?"

He was, provokingly confident in his manner. Suddenly she stopped again. They were almost at Mrs. Carmichael's door, and Robert Duncan's shack was not far away.

"Really, Mr Hastings," she said, resuming a serious tone, "I do wish you would leave me."

"No," he persisted, "I am going to see you safely home."

Mrs. Carmichael met them at the door. Donald had already reached home, and had told her of Bobbie's refusal to return with him. She patted the little one on the head. He was an attractive little boy, and it was evident Mrs. Carmichael loved him. She stooped and extended her arms, and the child ran into them.

"So my Bobbie was nae coming home tae his auntie? What'd I dae wi'oot him?"

Bobbie hung his head and then said softly:

"Bobbie hae found a mither."

The call was prolonged in order to get Bobbie into a staying frame of mind. At last they spied Robert Duncan approaching his shack, when Kenneth stepped over to tell him of Bobbie's decision and afternoon experience. At first the man smiled, then the tears trickled down his face.

"Puir bairn, puir bairn," he said, huskily. Kenneth laid a kindly hand on his shoulder. He knew that Duncan was disheartened, and had spent much time, lately, in the saloons.

"Come," he said. "Come get the little chap. It is evident he misses his mother."

"Yes, he misses her, an' I miss her. I'll gie mair time tae him."

So saying, he accompanied Kenneth to the Carmichael home and soon Bobbie was in his father's arms.

The call of Kenneth and Esther drew to a close.

As the two walked briskly toward the camp, Esther Bright paused from time to time to draw in great breaths of air, and to drink in the glory of the world about her.

"Come," her companion said, "we shall be late to dinner. Did you know I am invited to dine with the Claytons to-night?"

"Really!" She tossed back the curls the stiff breeze had blown across her eyes.

"Really!" he echoed, in a tone of mockery. "Miss Bright, pardon me, but you--" He paused.

"Well?" she said. "What about _you_?"

"You look altogether charming."

She stopped. He walked on.