'T is when I meet a pretty girl,
You bet I will or try,
I'll make her my little wife,
Root hog or die."
"You see Johnnie isn't ashamed to shout out his good intentions," she
said.
"Johnnie isn't engaged to the loveliest creature under heaven. He
doesn't have to lie awake nights for fear the skies will fall and blot
him out before his day of bliss."
Beatrice dropped a little curtsy. She held out her hand in dismissal.
"Till to-morrow, Clary."
As Bromfield turned away, Johnnie came round a corner of the house
dragging a garden hose. He was attacking another stanza of the song:
"There's hard times on old Bitter Creek
That never can be beat.
It was root hog or die
Under every wagon sheet.
We cleared up all the Indians,
Drank . . ."
The puncher stopped abruptly at sight of his mistress.
"What did you drink that has made you so happy this morning, Johnnie?"
she asked lightly.
The cowpuncher's secret burst from him. "I done got married, Miss
Beatrice."
"You--what?"
"I up and got married day before yesterday," he beamed.
"And who's the happy girl?"
"Kitty Mason. We jes' walked to the church round the corner. Clay he
stood up with us and give the bride away. It's me 'n' her for Arizona
_poco pronto_."
Beatrice felt a queer joyous lift inside her as of some weight that had
gone. In a single breath Johnnie had blown away the mists of
misunderstanding that for weeks had clouded her vision.
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