said. A touch of the old fire is burning in her. She's spent most of her life dashing after this man or that.
You don't mean . . . !
I do, indeed. The mythological bird is lusting for you.
Unless she was wild about you she wouldn't let you touch her Indians with a vaulting pole. She's going to take you off to her mountain fastnesses and eat you up.
Jack, Ambrose announced resolutely, I'm going back to New York. I'm safe in New York.
Jack laughed uproariously. Don't take the old gal seriously, he advised. What can she do, after all, if you are unwilling? She can't kidnap you. Just tell her you won't go.
I can't, Ambrose confessed. I just can't tell anybody I won't do anything. I guess I'm not made that way. I'm going back to New York.
Well, I'll tell her then, Jack assured him. Then, Hello, what's this?
They had driven up before Jack's adobe. Standing in the doorway, his revolver in its holster, stood the sheriff.
Well, Ed, what's the matter? Jack inquired, as he descended from the car, followed by Ambrose.
