a bad man at all, really."

"He's a good man gone bad. But I'll say this for Shorty. He's some _man_.
He'll do to ride the river with."

"Yes."

"At the fire he was the best fighter in my gang--saved one of the boys
at the risk of his own life. Shorty's no quitter."

She shut her teeth on a little wave of emotion. Then, "I'm awful sorry
for him," she said.

He nodded appreciation of her feeling. "I know, but you don't need to
worry any. He'll not worry about himself. He's sufficient, and he'll get
along."

They put their horses to the trail again.

Crawford met them some miles nearer town. He had been unable to wait for
their arrival. Neither he nor the children could restrain their emotion
at sight of each other. Dave felt they might like to be alone and he left
the party, to ride across to the tendejon with Bonita's bulldog revolver.

That young woman met him in front of the house. She was eager for news.
Sanders told her what had taken place. They spoke in her tongue.

"And Juan--is it all right about him?" she asked.

"Juan has wiped the slate clean. Mr. Crawford wants to know when Bonita
is to be married. He has a wedding present for her."

She was all happy smiles when he left her.

Late that afternoon Bob Hart reached town. He and Dave were alone in the
Jackpot offices when the latter forced himself to open a subject that had
always been closed between them. Sanders came to it reluctantly. No man
had ever found a truer friend than he in Bob Hart. The thing he was going
to do seemed almost like a stab in the back.

"How about you and Joyce, Bob?" he asked abruptly.

The eyes of the two met and held. "What about us, Dave?"

"It's like this," Sanders said, flushed and embarrassed. "You were here
first. You're entitled to first chance. I meant to keep out of it, but
things have come up in spite of me. I want to do whatever seems right to
you. My idea is to go away till--till you've settled how you stand with
her. Is that fair?"

Bob smiled, ruefully. "Fair enough, old-timer. But no need of it. I never
had a chance with Joyce, not a dead man's look-in. Found that out before
ever you came home. The field's clear far as I'm concerned. Hop to it an'
try yore luck."

Dave took his advice, within the hour. He found Joyce at home in the
kitchen. She was making pies energetically. The sleeves of her dress were
rolled up to the elbows and there was a dab of flour on her temple where
she had brushed back a