y he dived a hand into his hip-pocket and drew out the bills
the saloon-keeper had paid him.

"Look at them," he cried in a voice that was high-pitched with
elation. "Ther's dollars an' dollars ther', but 'tain't nuthin' to
wot's to come. Say, I got another cache o' gold waitin' back ther' at
my shack, but I ain't handin' it to Beasley," he went on cunningly.
"Oh, no, not me! I'm a business guy, I am. I hold that up, an' all the
rest I git from my patch, an' I'm goin' to cash it in Leeson Butte, at
the bank, fer a proper exchange. See? Oh, I ain't no sucker, I ain't.
An' a feller needs a heap o' dollars, treatin' his gal right."

Joan hardly knew how to deal with such a situation. Besides, the now
obvious condition of the man alarmed her. However, he gave her no
opportunity to reply. For, delighted with his own talk, he went on
promptly--

"Now I tho't a whole heap since I got this wad. A wad like this takes
you thinkin', that is, ef you ain't a low-down rattle-brain like Pete,
or a psalm-smitin' son-of-a-moose like that feller, Buck. Course they
ain't got no sort o' savvee, anyways, so they don't count nuthin'. But
wi' a feller like me things is diff'rent. Now, this is what I got
fixed. Y' see you can't have no sort of a time in this yer camp, but
it's diff'rent in Leeson Butte. Guess we'll get a buggy from the camp
an' drive into Leeson. Ther's dance halls ther', an' they run a decent
faro joint at a place I know. An' they sell elegant rye, too. Wal,
we'll git that buggy, an' git fixed up reg'lar in Leeson, an' have a
bully time, an' git right back to here an' run this yer farm between
us. How's that?"

"I--I don't think I understand."

Joan's alarm grew. This man was deliberately proposing to marry her.
Supported by the nerve his half-drunken condition inspired, his senses
were so inflamed that he took the whole matter for granted. She looked
into his sensual young face, the hard eyes, and at the loose lips that
surrounded his unclean teeth, and something like panic seized her.
However, she knew she must not show her fear.

But he was waiting. And in reality her reply came without any
hesitation. She shook her head.

"You've made a mistake," she said decidedly but gently. "I have no
intention of marrying anybody." Then, taking her courage in both
hands, she permitted something of her dislike and contempt to creep
into her manner. "It seems to me you take a great deal too much for
granted. You come here when