"Not real good, ma'am. You see, we had no town to shoot up, so we just punctured the scenery. If we had known you were here----" "You would have come and shot us up," she charged gayly. Kilmeny laughed. "You're a good one, neighbor. But you don't need to worry." He let his eyes admire her lazily. "Young ladies are too seldom in this neck of the woods for the boys to hurt any. Give them a chance and they would be real good to you, ma'am." His audacity delighted Moya Dwight. "Do you think they would?" "In our own barbaric way, of course." "Do you ever scalp people?" she asked with innocent impudence. "It's a young country," he explained genially. "It has that reputation." "You've been reading stories about us," he charged. "Now we'll be on our good behavior just to show you." "Thank you--if it isn't too hard." "They're good boys, though they do forget it sometimes." "I'm glad they do. They wouldn't interest me if they were too good. What's the use of coming to Colorado if it is going to be as civilized as England?" Verinder, properly scandalized at this free give and take with a haphazard savage of the wilds, interrupted in the interest of propriety. "I'll not detain you any longer, my man. You may get at your fishing." The Westerner paid not the least attention to him. "My gracious, ma'am, we think we're a heap more civilized than England. We ain't got any militant suffragettes in this country--at least, I've never met up with any." "They're a sign of civilization," the young woman laughed. "They prove we're still alive, even if we are asleep." "We've got you beat there, then. All the women vote here. What's the matter with you staying and running for governor?" "Could I--really?" she beamed. "Really and truly. Trouble with us is that we're so civilized we bend over backward with it. You're going to find us mighty tame. The melodramatic romance of the West is mostly in storybooks. What there was of it has gone out with the cowpuncher." "What's a cowpuncher?" "He rides the range after cattle." "Oh--a cowboy. But aren't there any cowboys?" "They're getting seldom. The barb wire fence has put them out of business. Mostly they're working for the moving picture companies now," he smiled. Mr. Verinder prefaced with a formal little cough a second attempt to drive away this very assured native. "As I was saying, Miss Dwight, I wouldn't mind going into Parliament, you know, if it weren't for the bally labor members. I'm rather strong on speaking--that sort of thing, you know. Used to be a dab at it. But I couldn't stand the bounders that get in nowadays. Really, I couldn't." "And I had so counted on the cowboys. I'm going to be disappointed, I think," Miss Dwight said to the Westerner quietly. Verinder had sense enough to know that he was being punished. He had tried to put the Westerner out of the picture and found himself eliminated instead. An angry flush rose to his cheeks.