Kettle, having heard that Broussard was leaving, came out of the dining-room, where he had been washing dishes, and wiping his hands on his long checked gingham apron, offered a friendly grasp to Broussard.
"I ain' goin' ter let Miss 'Nita furgit you, suh," Kettle whispered, "doan' you be skeered of Mr.Conway--he treat Miss 'Nita same like he did when she wear her hair down her back." Broussard inwardly thought that perhaps Conway's plan was best.

But he gave Kettle a confidential wink and a bank note.
"Some day I'll come back, Kettle, and then----" Broussard did not finish the sentence in his own mind.

Anita had seen just enough to prejudice a young, innocent girl against him.
Outside the door, a trooper was holding Gamechick by the bridle, delivering the horse to his new master.
"Good-bye, good horse," said Broussard, patting Gamechick's neck.

"You did me the best turn any creature, man or beast, ever did me, and I promise never to forget my obligations to you." Horses are sentimental creatures.

Gamechick knew that Broussard's words were a farewell.