“Ahuh!” grunted Neale.  He laughed grimly at himself, for again he had felt a pang of jealousy.  He knew what to expect from Larry or any other young man who ever had the wonderful good luck to get near Allie Lee.  “All right, call him Reddy,” he went on.  “I guess I can allow my future wife so much familiarity with my pard.”

This confused Allie out of her sweet gravity, and she blushed.

“Shore you’re mighty kind,” drawled Larry, recovering.  “More ’n I reckoned on from a fellar who’s shore lost his haid.”

“I’ve lost more ’n that,” retorted Neale, “and I’m afraid a certain wild young cowboy I know has lost as much.”

“Wal, I reckon somethin’ abbot this heah place of Slingerland’s draws on a fellar,” admitted Larry, resignedly.

Allie did not long stay embarrassed by their sallies.

“Neale, tell me—­”

“See heah, Allie, if you call me Reddy an’ him only Neale—­why he’s a-goin’ to pitch into me,” interrupted Larry, with twinkling eyes.  “An’ he’s shore a bad customer when he’s r’iled.”

“Only Neale?  What does he mean?” inquired Allie.

“Beyond human conjecture,” replied Neale, laughing.

“Wal, don’t you know his front name?” asked Larry.

“Neale.  I call him that,” she replied.

“Haw!  Haw!  But it ain’t thet.”

“Allie, my name is Warren,” said Neale.  “You’ve forgotten.”

“Oh! ...  Well, it’s always been Neale—­and always will be.”

Larry rose and stretched his long arms for the pipe on the rude stone chimney.

“Slingerland,” he drawled, “these heah young people need to find out who they are.  An’ I reckon we’d do wal to go out an’ smoke an’ talk.”

The trapper came forth from the shadows, and as he filled his pipe his keen, bright gaze shifted from the task to his friends.

“It’s good to see you an’ hyar you,” he said.  “I was a youngster once I missed—­but thet’s no matter....  Live while you may! ...  Larry, come with me.  I’ve got a trap to set yit.”

Allie flashed a glance at them.

“It’s not so.  You never set traps after dark.”

“Wal, child, any excuse is better ’n none.  Neale wouldn’t never git to hyar you say all thet sweet talk as is comin’ to him—­if two old fools hung round.”

“Slingerland, I’ve throwed a gun for less ’n thet,” drawled Larry.  “Aboot the fool part I ain’t shore, but I was twenty-five yesterday —­an’ I’m sixteen to-day.”

They lit their pipes with red embers scraped from the fire, and with wise nods at Neale and Allie passed out into the dark.

Allie’s eyes were upon Neale, with shy, eloquent intent, and directly the others had departed she changed her seat to one close to Neale; she nestled against his shoulder, her face to the fire.

“They thought we wanted to make love, didn’t they?” she said, dreamily.

“I guess they did,” replied Neale.