her end trailed off over the ground. Her hands were
free. Her riding-habit was dusty and disordered. Her eyes blazed
defiantly out of a small, pale face.

"Harve Riggs, I wouldn't be standing in those cheap boots of yours for
a million dollars," she said, sarcastically. Riggs took no notice of her
words.

"You pack that gun-sheath wrong end out. What have you got the gun for,
anyhow?" she added, tauntingly.

Snake Anson let out a hoarse laugh and Moze's black visage opened in a
huge grin. Jim Wilson seemed to drink in the girl's words. Sullen and
somber, he bent his lean head, very still, as if listening.

"You'd better shut up," said Riggs, darkly.

"I will not shut up," declared Bo.

"Then I'll gag you," he threatened.

"Gag me! Why, you dirty, low-down, two-bit of a bluff!" she exclaimed,
hotly, "I'd like to see you try it. I'll tear that long hair of yours
right off your head."

Riggs advanced toward her with his hands clutching, as if eager to
throttle her. The girl leaned forward, her face reddening, her eyes
fierce.

"You damned little cat!" muttered Riggs, thickly. "I'll gag you--if you
don't stop squallin'."

"Come on. I dare you to lay a hand on me.... Harve Riggs, I'm not the
least afraid of you. Can't you savvy that? You're a liar, a four-flush,
a sneak! Why, you're not fit to wipe the feet of any of these outlaws."

Riggs took two long strides and bent over her, his teeth protruding in a
snarl, and he cuffed her hard on the side of the head.

Bo's head jerked back with the force of the blow, but she uttered no
cry.

"Are you goin' to keep your jaw shut?" he demanded, stridently, and a
dark tide of blood surged up into his neck.

"I should smile I'm not," retorted Bo, in cool, deliberate anger
of opposition. "You've roped me--and you've struck me! Now get a
club--stand off there--out of my reach--and beat me! Oh, if I only knew
cuss words fit for you--I'd call you them!"

Snake Anson had stopped playing cards, and was watching, listening, with
half-disgusted, half-amused expression on his serpent-like face. Jim
Wilson slowly rose to his feet. If any one had observed him it would
have been to note that he now seemed singularly fascinated by this
scene, yet all the while absorbed in himself. Once he loosened the
neck-band of his blouse.

Riggs swung his arm more violently at the girl. But she dodged.

"You dog!" she hissed. "Oh, if I only had a gun!"

Her face then, with its dead whiten