the Mormon Gods! I'll post right into the house and say
my little say as soon as these cuts stop bleeding!"

Cob-webs stopped the cuts, and other cob-webs stopped Red Saunders,
late of the Chanta Seechee ranch; two hundred and fifty pounds of
the very finest bone and muscle. And the cob-webs held him,
foaming and boiling with rage and disgust, calling himself all the
yaller pups he could think of, but staying strictly within the safe
limits of the barn. It was a revelation to the big man, and not a
pleasant one. How was he to know that the most salient point of
his apparent cowardice was nothing less worthy than respect for the
woman's purity? That if he would stop swearing long enough to get
at the springs of his action, he would find that he hesitated
because the new light on the matter made huge shadows of the slips
in the career of a strong, lawless, untrained but sorely tempted
man? He knew nothing of the sort, and the funniest of comedies
took place in the barn. He would reach the sensible stage. "Pah!
All foolishness. Go? Of course he'd go, and this very minute, and
have the thing done with, good or bad"; he was quite amused at his
former conduct--until he reached the door. Then he'd skip nimbly
back again, with a hot feeling that somebody was watching him,
although a careful inspection through the crack of the door
revealed no one.

Red discovered another thing that afternoon, which was that the
more nervous you are the more nervous you get. He groaned in
perfect misery: "Ohoho! That I should have seen the day when I was
afraid to ask anybody anything. What's come over me anyhow? It's
this darn country, I believe--'tain't me," then he stopped short.
"What you saying, Red?" he queried. "Why don't you own up like a
man!" The fact that it had a funny side struck him, and he
laughed, half forlornly, and half in thorough enjoyment. He
suddenly sobered down. "She's worth it, anyway," said he. "She's
the best there is, and I ought to feel kind of leery of the
outcome--Well--Now, I guess I won't say anything till there's a
downright good chance. I see I didn't savvy this kind of business
like I thought I did. 'Twouldn't be no kind of manners to step up
to a lady and shout, 'I'd like to have you marry me, if you feel
you've got the time!' That don't go no more than a Chinaman on
roller-skates. Your work is good, Red, but it's a little lumpy in
spots; them two left feet bother you; you're good