for he laughed
outright.

"He's the sort of a man who polkas with you first and then cuts your
throat," was his next stab.

The Girl turned upon him with eyes flashing and retorted:

"Well, it's my throat, ain't it?"

"Well I'll be!--" The Sheriff's sentence was left unfinished, for Nick,
quickly pulling him to one side, whispered:

"Say, Rance, the Girl's cut up because she vouched for 'im. Don't rub it
in."

Notwithstanding, Rance, to the Girl's query of "How did this Nina
Micheltorena know it?" took a keen delight in telling her:

"She's his girl."

"His girl?" repeated the Girl, mechanically.

"Yes. She gave us his picture," went on Rance; and taking the photograph
out of his pocket, he added maliciously, "with love written on the back
of it."

A glance at the photograph, which she fairly snatched out of his hands,
convinced the Girl of the truthfulness of his assertion. With a movement
of pain she threw it upon the floor, crying out bitterly:

"Nina Micheltorena! Nina Micheltorena!" Turning to Ashby with an abrupt
change of manner she said contritely: "I'm sorry, Mr. Ashby, I vouched
for 'im."

The Wells Fargo Agent softened at the note in the Girl's voice; he was
about to utter some comforting words to her when suddenly she spoke
again.

"I s'pose they had one o' them little lovers' quarrels an' that made 'er
tell you, eh?" She laughed a forced little laugh, though her heart was
beating strangely as she kept on: "He's the kind o' man who sort o'
polkas with every girl he meets." And at this she began to laugh almost
hysterically.

Rance, who resented her apologising to anyone but himself, stood
scowling at her.

"What are you laughing at?" he questioned.

"Oh, nothin', Jack, nothin'," half-cried, half-laughed the Girl. "Only
it's kind o' funny how things come out, ain't it? Took in! Nina
Micheltorena! Nice company he keeps--one o' them Cachuca girls with
eyelashes at half-mast!"

Once more, she broke out into a fit of laughter.

"Well, well," she resumed, "an' she sold 'im out for money! Ah, Jack
Rance, you're a better guesser'n I am!" And with these words she sank
down at the table in an apathy of misery. Horror and hatred and
hopelessness had possession of her. A fierce look was in her eyes when a
moment later she raised her head and abruptly dismissed the boys,
saying:

"Well, boys, it's gittin' late--good-night!"

Sonora was the first to make a movement towards the door.

"Come o