“Why, sure--I never thought about that. I guess maybe I _had_ better get Polycarp. But Val could make out all right alone. Why, she's held it down here for a week at a time--last winter, when I'd forgot to come home”--he winked shamelessly--“or a storm would come up so I couldn't get home. Val isn't like some fool women, I'll say that much for her. She don't care whether I'm around or not; fact is, sometimes I think she's better pleased when I'm gone. But you're right--I'll see Polycarp and have him come over once in a while. Sure. Glad you spoke of it. You always had a great head for thinking about other people, Kent. You ought to get married.” “No, thanks,” Kent scowled. “I haven't got any grudge against women. The world's full of men ready and willing to give 'em a taste of pure, unadulterated hell.” Manley stared at him stupidly, and then laughed doubtfully, as if he felt certain of having, by his dullness, missed the point of a very good joke. After that the time was filled with the preparations for Manley's absence. Kent did what he could to help, and Val went calmly about the house, packing the few necessary personal belongings which might be stuffed into a “war bag” and used during round-up. Beyond an occasional glance of friendly understanding, she seemed to have forgotten the compact she had made with Kent. But when they were ready to ride away, Kent purposely left his gloves lying upon the couch, and remembered them only after Manley was in the saddle. So he went back, and Val followed him into the room. He wanted to say something--he did not quite know what--something that would bring them a little closer together, and keep them so; something that would make her think of him often and kindly. He picked up his gloves and held out his hand to her--and then a diffidence seized his tongue. There was nothing he dared say. All the eloquence, all the tenderness, was in his eyes. “Well--good-by, pal. Be good to yourself,” he said simply. Val smiled up at him tremulously. “Good-by, my one friend. Don't--don't get hurt!” Their clasp tightened, their hands dropped apart rather limply. Kent went out and got upon his horse, and rode away beside Manley, and talked of the range and of the round-up and of cattle and a dozen other things which interest men. But all the while one exultant thought kept reiterating itself in his mind: “She never said that much to _him!_ She never said that much to _him!_” CHAPTER XVI. MANLEY'S NEW TACTICS