etween you an' me--it would be easier than
ropin' a calf. These fellars round Pine don't savvy guns. Now, I come
from where guns mean somethin'. An' when I tell you I can throw a gun
slick an' fast, why I shore ain't braggin'. You needn't worry none about
me, Miss Nell."

Helen grasped that he had taken the signs of her shocked sensibility
to mean she feared for his life. But what had sickened her was the mere
idea of bloodshed in her behalf.

"You'd--kill Beasley--just because there are rumors of his--treachery?"
gasped Helen.

"Shore. It'll have to be done, anyhow," replied the cowboy.

"No! No! It's too dreadful to think of. Why, that would be murder. I--I
can't understand how you speak of it--so--so calmly."

"Reckon I ain't doin' it calmly. I'm as mad as hell," said Carmichael,
with a reckless smile.

"Oh, if you are serious then, I say no--no--no! I forbid you. I don't
believe I'll be robbed of my property."

"Wal, supposin' Beasley does put you off--an' takes possession. What 're
you goin' to say then?" demanded the cowboy, in slow, cool deliberation.

"I'd say the same then as now," she replied.

He bent his head thoughtfully while his red hands smoothed his sombrero.

"Shore you girls haven't been West very long," he muttered, as if
apologizing for them. "An' I reckon it takes time to learn the ways of a
country."

"West or no West, I won't have fights deliberately picked, and men shot,
even if they do threaten me," declared Helen, positively.

"All right, Miss Nell, shore I respect your wishes," he returned. "But
I'll tell you this. If Beasley turns you an' Bo out of your home--wal,
I'll look him up on my own account."

Helen could only gaze at him as he backed to the door, and she thrilled
and shuddered at what seemed his loyalty to her, his love for Bo, and
that which was inevitable in himself.

"Reckon you might save us all some trouble--now if you'd--just get
mad--an' let me go after thet greaser."

"Greaser! Do you mean Beasley?"

"Shore. He's a half-breed. He was born in Magdalena, where I heard folks
say nary one of his parents was no good."

"That doesn't matter. I'm thinking of humanity of law and order. Of what
is right."

"Wal, Miss Nell, I'll wait till you get real mad--or till Beasley--"

"But, my friend, I'll not get mad," interrupted Helen. "I'll keep my
temper."

"I'll bet you don't," he retorted. "Mebbe you think you've none of Bo in
you. But I'll bet you could get so