fulness in its tone. "It's--it's--Say, Zip, I ain't fergot our
talk out there on the trail." He nodded his head out in the
direction of Spawn City. "You mind that talk when you was puttin' up
that fool proposition o' handin' James that kid?"

Scipio's eyes had come back to his companion, and their expression had
suddenly dropped to one of hopeless regret. His heart was stirred to
its depths by the reference to the past trouble which lay like a
cankerous sore so deep down in it.

He nodded. But otherwise he had no words.

"You're needin' your wife?" Bill went on brusquely.

Again Scipio nodded. But this time words came, too.

"But you was right," he said. "I saw it all after. I was plumb wrong.
An'--an' I ain't holding you to--what you said. You jest wanted to put
me right. I understood that--after."

Bill stirred uneasily, and kicked a protruding limb of the tree on
which he sat.

"You're a heap ready to let me out," he cried, with a return to his
harshest manner. "Who in blazes are you to say I don't need to do
the--things I said I'd do? Jest wait till you're ast to." He turned
away, and Scipio was left troubled and wondering.

But suddenly the lean body swung round again, and the little
prospector felt the burning intensity of the man's eyes as they
concentrated on his flushing face.

"You're needin' your wife?" he jerked out.

"More'n all the world," the little man cried, with emotion.

"Would you put up a--a scrap fer her?"

"With anybody."

The corners of Bill's mouth wrinkled, but his eyes remained hard and
commanding. Whatever feelings of an appreciative nature lay behind his
lean face they were well hidden.

"You'd face James an' all his gang--again? You'd face him if it sure
meant--death?"

"The chance o' death wouldn't stop me if I could get her back."

The quiet of the little man's tone carried a conviction far greater
than any outburst could have done.

"An' she's been--his?"

Scipio took a deep breath. His hands clenched. Just for a moment the
whites of his eyes became bloodshot with some rush of tremendous
feeling. It seemed as though he were about to break out into verbal
expression of his agony of heart. But when he finally did speak it was
in the same even tone, though his breath came hard and deep.

"I want her--whatever she is," he said quietly.

Bill rose to his feet, and a passionate light shone in his sparkling
eyes.

"Then take Minky's mule an' buckboard. Start right ou