His mouth drooped, also, like that of a disappointed child, and his eyes took to themselves more melancholy.
"I must have taken the wrong road," he repeated ineffectually.
"Yes," Billy agreed gravely, "I guess yuh must of; it does kinda look that way." There was no reason why he should feel anything more than a passing amusement at this wandering length of humanity, but Billy felt an unaccountable stirring of pity and a feeling of indulgent responsibility for the man.
"Could you--direct me to the right road ?" "Well, I reckon I could," Billy told him doubtfully, "but it would be quite a contract under the circumstances.

Anyway, your cayuse is too near played; yuh better cut out your visit this time and come along back to town with me.

You're liable to do a lot more wandering around till yuh find yourself plumb afoot." He did not know that he came near using the tone one takes toward a lost child.
"Perhaps, seeing I've come out of my way, I might as well," Mr.Dill decided hesitatingly.

"That is, if you don't mind." "Oh, I don't mind at all," Charming Billy assured him airily.

"Uh course, I own this trail, and the less it's tracked up right now in its present state the better, but you're welcome to use it--if you're particular to trod soft and don't step in the middle." Alexander P.Dill looked at him uncertainly, as if his sense of humor were weak and not to be trusted off-hand; turned his tired horse awkwardly in a way that betrayed an unfamiliarity with "neck-reining," and began to retrace his steps beside Charming Billy.