"And I'll try not to care for him, or think about him, even one little bit." Frances bent and kissed her. Nola's arms clung to her neck a little, holding her while she whispered in her ear. "For I'm going to be different, I'm going to be good--abso-_lutely_ good!" CHAPTER XXIV BANJO FACES INTO THE WEST "You don't tell me? So the old colonel's got what his heart's been pinin' for many a year. Well, well!" Mrs. Chadron was beside her window in her favored rocker again, less assertive of bulk in her black dress, not so florid of face, and with lines of sadness about her mouth and eyes. A fire was snapping in the chimney, for the gray sky was driving a bitter wind, and the first snowflakes of winter were straying down. Banjo Gibson was before the fire, his ears red, his cheeks redder, just in from a brisk ride over from the post. His instruments lay beside him on the floor, and he was limbering his fingers close to the blaze. "Yes, he's a brigamadier now," said he. "Brigadier-General Landcraft," said she, musingly, looking away into the grayness of the day; "well, maybe he deserves it. Fur as I'm concerned, he's welcome to it, and I'm glad for Frances' sake." "He's vinegar and red pepper, that old man is! Takin' him up both sides and down the middle, as the feller said, I reckon the colonel--or brigamadier, I guess they'll call him now--he's about as good as they make 'em. I always did have a kind of a likin' for that old feller--he's something like me." "It was nice of you to come over and tell me the news, anyhow, Banjo; you're always as obligin' and thoughtful as you can be." "It's always been a happiness and a pleasure, mom, and I've come a good many times with news, sad and joyful, to your door. But I reckon it'll be many a long day before I come ridin' to Alamito with news ag'in; many a long, long day." "What do you mean, Banjo? You ain't goin'--" "To Californy; startin' from here as soon as my horse blows a spell and eats his last feed at your feed box, mom. I've got to make it to Meander to ketch the mornin' train." "Oh, Banjo! you don't tell me!" Tears gushed to Mrs. Chadron's eyes, used to so much weeping now, and her lips trembled as she pressed them hard to keep back a sob. "You're the last friend of the old times, the last face outside of this house belongin' to the old days. When you're gone my last friend, the very last one I care about outside of my own, 'll be gone!" Banjo cleared his throat unsteadily, and looked very hard at the fire for quite a spell before he spoke. "The best of friends must part," he said. "Yes, they must part," she admitted, her handkerchief pressed to her eyes, her voice muffled behind it.