By way of clearing up the whole matter, he began with an introduction of Cis. "There's a girl lives where I do," he announced casually. "Y' don't say! Sister? Cousin? She must 'a' missed y'." "No relation at all. But she's awful nice--I like her. She's sixteen, goin' on seventeen, and I'm goin' t' steal her away soon's ever I grow up." "I git y'.--Say, Mister, go slow with this gasoline bronc' of your'n! Y' know I'd like t' see little old Cheyenne oncet more before I check in,"--this to the chauffeur, as the taxicab shaved the flank of a street car going at high speed, then caromed to rub axles with a brother machine. "You'll meet her," promised Johnnie, who did not think they were going too fast, and who had completely forgotten it was Sunday, which meant that Cis would be at home without fail; "'cause once before, when I burnt my hand, she stayed away from work two whole days. Big Tom never lets Grandpa be alone." (He thought that rather a neat way to bring in the old man.) With a sidewise tipping of the big hat, One-Eye directed a searching look to the bare head at his elbow. "Other days, _you_ take care of said ole man," he returned. Johnnie nodded. "I like him." The silence that followed was embarrassing. He knew One-Eye was watching him. But not liking to glance up, he was unable to judge of his companion's attitude. So he began again, changing the subject. "Cis is awful pretty," he confided. "Once she was a May Queen in Central Park for her class at school, only it wasn't in May, and she had all the ice cream she could eat. Mrs. Kukor made her a white dress for that time, and I made some art'ficial vi'lets for 'round her hair. Oh, she looked fine! And she saw the Prince of Wales when he was in N'York and ever since she's liked just him." One-Eye took the cigar from his mouth. "It'd be a grand match for her," he conceded. His tone implied that the alliance with Royalty was by no means a remote possibility. "A-a-a-aw!" scoffed Johnnie, flashing up at One-Eye a wise smile. "All the girls at Cis's fac'try seen him, too, and they all like him just the same as she does. But the Prince, he's got t' marry a Princess." One-Eye agreed. "Pretty tough," he observed sympathetically, and went back to his cigar. "So Cis'll have t' marry a movin'-picture actor," concluded Johnnie; "--or a cowboy." At that the cigar fairly popped from One-Eye's countenance. "A cowboy!" he cried, the green eye dancing. "W'y, that'd be better'n a Prince!" "It would?" Johnnie considered the idea. "Certainly would--t' _my_ way of thinkin'." In their brief acquaintance One-Eye had never before shown such interest, such animation. "How d' you mean?" "I mean," answered One-Eye, stoutly, "that cowboys is _noble_ fellers!"