He came a step nearer, turning his head in the light so Texas could see his face clearly. But beyond establishing that he was a comely youth, dark-skinned as an Indian, with dark hair cut close to his handsome head, Texas could make out nothing at all.
"No, sir; you've got me, as sure as you're born."
"Why, I'm your old side-pardner, Ben Chouteau, from the Nation," said the unaccountable stranger, speaking a little louder, for the benefit of Malvina, apparently, who had come to the door.
Texas started at the clearer note of that boyish treble, held out his hand, giving the cowboy the grip of genuine friendliness.
"I'm glad to see you—I'm more than glad, old feller!" he said. "It's an old friend of mine, a sure-enough good friend, like the rest of you-all here at this ho-tel, ma'am," he assured Malvina, who nodded, entirely satisfied, and returned to her duties within the house.
Texas drew the stranger into the shadow, still holding him by the hand.
"Miss Fannie!" he whispered. "Where in this world did you come from—what're you doin' rigged up thataway?"
"Even you didn't know me!"
"Not till you spoke loud thataway, then it come to me in a flash."
