Rand buried his face in his arms, and Bud did not see the unholy mirth that suffused it. Nor did Bud see any of the expressions that wreathed Rand's face, as with diabolical craft and suggestion he continued to teach the youngster proficiency in the art of profane expression.
There came a time, after a while, when Bud's proficiency became established, when Rand took the boy from the fence and sent him into the house.
Standing at the stable door, Rand looked through the glowing twilight toward the space that stretched toward the Bar S.
"I reckon she won't ketch me in a lie about Bud's swearin'," he said, grinning hugely, though guiltily.
Chapter XVI. An Interlude with Cupid
UPON Silver, the horse that had taken her to the timber in which she had first met Beaudry Rand, Eleanor was riding toward the Three Bar to keep her promise to instill into Bud's mind a horror for all things profane.
It was several days following that upon which Rand had cunningly tutored Bud; and in the interval between the day of the teaching and that upon which Miss Seddon was riding toward the Three Bar, Bud had spent much of his spare time seated on the top rail of the fence near the gate, gravely swearing at the animals within the enclosure.
He was there today; he had been there for many minutes, following the movements of the sorrel horse with frowning glances. He had not seen Miss Seddon coming toward him across the plains; he did not see her, nor hear her, when she at last rode up to the corral gate and sat silently in the saddle, looking at him.
Bud's gingham pinafore — today a pink one—was immaculate, for Aunt Betsey had been apprized of Miss Seddon's determination to visit Bud—though Rand had not mentioned the real reason for her proposed visit — and Aunt Betsey had kept the boy spick and span in anticipation of the event.
And so Bud looked invitingly fresh. It did not take Miss Seddon an instant to warm toward him; and she sat in the saddle, smiling at his back with a tenderness which Bud would have appreciated had he seen.
But Bud's thoughts and attentions were gravely centered upon the sorrel horse. He had come to the conclusion that the sorrel was what Rand had said it was. And now, for the twentieth time, he was gravely expressing his opinion.
"You're a damned monkey-faced sorrel!" he said; "an' I wouldn't ride you — so there!"
Bud said more. For a child, unused to a new language, he did well. With a fluency born of a keen liking for the picturesque method of expression, he nobly set to work to defame the sorrel. So complete was his work that it caused the lady behind him to grow speechless with amazement.
She got down silently, her face crimson, and stealthily approached the criminal. And the first Bud knew of her presence was when he felt a soft hand on his shoulder, and a softer voice whispering into his ear:
"Little boy — Bud; you mustn't say those naughty things!"
Bud twisted on the post top and surveyed the lady won-deringly. He never had seen a girl quite like the one who was close to him now; never had he thought there was so much beauty and winsomeness in any girl. And so Bud's thoughts grew shamefully confused. He wanted to be a man, like his father, and those swear words sounded big and important to the ear; they had a snap and a resonance all their own. But somehow, there was that in the lady's reproaching and rebuking eyes which convinced him, almost, that the words should not be used.
But Bud was loyal to his father, and he bravely straightened.
"Why?" he protested.
"God doesn't like little boys who swear," the lady informed him gently.
"I don't like that damned monkey-faced sorrel!" declared Bud, unimpressed.
The lady tried a new trick; she was cunningly resourceful.
"Bud," she said, smiling sweetly at him, "I'm afraid I won't like you if you say that again."
Bud smirked uncertainly. He wanted the lady to like him, and yet he wanted to be a man. Still, there was a coldness in the expression of the lady's face which warned him that if he persisted he would lose her; and so the smirk became a broad, winning smile.
"I won't say it again," he conceded.
Instantly the lady smiled with him, and he impulsively hugged her as she lifted him down from the post.
He watched her as she threw the reins over Silver's head, looping them around the post upon which he had been sitting; then she grasped him by a hand, and started toward the house.
She saw Aunt Betsey watching her from the front doorway, with Uncle Ephraim behind her, looking over her shoulder. And upon Aunt Betsey's face was a welcoming smile. Uncle Ephraim, too, was smiling. And Bud smiled also, and snuggled close to the lady, for he liked her very much.
And still another person in the vicinity was smiling. He had seen Miss Seddon riding over the plains toward the ranchhouse, and, having noted Bud's position on the post, he had discreetly retired to a point within the stable — not more than twenty feet distant from the corral gate — where, with a gleeful eye at a convenient knothole, and nothing but a thin, board wall intervening, he had heard every word spoken by Bud and the radiant lady visitor.
No emotion of shame seemed to afflict the culprit; there was no gleam of guilt in his eyes. And when, after a while — after Miss Seddon had been received and made to feel [welcome by Aunt Betsey and Uncle Ephraim, and both had withdrawn, leaving Miss Seddon alone on the porch with Bud — the culprit shamelessly emerged from the stable and made his way to the porch.
Miss Seddon had not seen him emerge from the stable; she was not aware of his presence until she saw Bud — who was sitting on her lap — grin widely. Then she turned, and her face became radiant again.
"Oh," she said; "it is you?"
"I reckon it's me, ma'am," he grinned. "Looks like you ain't figurin' to lose any time workin' on Bud."
"Poor little fellow," she said, smoothing Bud's short hair. "He needs someone to care for him. It seems Aunt Betsey has never heard him — er — use profanity. Besides, she has plenty to do to take care of the house. When I got here some time ago, Bud was sitting on the gatepost there, swearing horribly."
"He's a wolf at it, ma'am," stated Rand gravely; "he's a dyed-in-the-wool pirate for cussin'. Why, ma'am, I've heard him slingin' words around that would scare a steer off the range."
"How awful!" exclaimed Miss Seddon. "And he is such a nice little fellow, too!"
"As to his cussin'," resumed Rand, his gaze unwavering as it met the lady's; "there's a heap to do in the reformin' line. Teachin' is what he wants, ma'am — plenty of teachin'."
"I'll do what I can, of course," stated the lady. "But you might help, too. Why, he swears horribly!"
"I was helpin' him only last night," assured Rand, without winking an eyelash. "What he needs is someone like you, ma'am, to wean him from them terrible habits of cussin'."
However, Bud received little instruction that day. Indeed, it seemed to Bud that he was being sadly neglected. For though he felt the lady's hand gripping his, and at times felt her fingers running lingeringly through his hair, he became aware that her attention was centered chiefly upon his father.
He watched closely, unnoticed by both, and saw the lady's eyes glow in those moments when Rand was not looking at her, when he seemed, his face slightly flushed, to be gravely thinking. But always, Bud noticed, she drooped her eyes when Rand turned to look at her. And at such times Rand's eyes did the glowing.
It was puzzling to Bud; he would have wished their eyes to glow when both were looking.
Later, Bud was lifted from his comfortable position on the lady's lap and placed upon the top step of the porch. He heard them speak of "riding,"