ap that left him with
his hands entwined in Keith's coat collar. He whirled that astounded
person half around and slammed him up against the wall of the
ranch-house, rumpled, gasping, with trembling hands that lifted before
the menace of Sam's gun.

"I oughter shoot the tongue out of you befo' I put a slug through yore
head," said Sam, standing in front of the promoter, tense as a jaguar
couched for a spring, his eyes glittering, his voice packed with venom.
"You git down on yo' knees, you ring-tailed skunk, an' apologize to
this lady. Crook yo' knees, you stinkin' polecat, an' crawl. I'll make
you lick her shoes. Down with you or I'll send you straight to
judgment!"

"No, Sam, Mr. Manning--it isn't necessary," protested Kate Nicholson.
"Please...."

Sam looked at her cold-eyed.

"This is my party," he said. "It'll do him good. I'll let him off
lickin' yo' shoes, he might spile the leather. But he'll git them
letters he chucked away, git 'em on all-fours, like the sneakin',
slinkin', double-crossin' coyote he is. Crook yo' knees first an'
apologize! I'll learn you a lesson right here an' now. You stay right
where you are, Kate. Let him come to you."

Sam fired a shot and the promoter jumped galvanically as the bullet tore
through the planking of the ranch-house between his trembling knees.

"I regret, Miss Nicholson," he commenced huskily, "that I let my temper
get the better of me. I was greatly upset. In the matter of your
services I was--er--doubtless hasty. It can be arranged."

He shrank at the tap of Sam's gun on his shoulder, wilting to his knees.

"She w'udn't work fo' you fo' the time it takes a rabbit to dodge a
rattler," said Sam. "She never did work fo' you. It was Molly's money
paid her. Kate's goin' to stay right here as long as she chooses an'
I...."

Catching Kate Nicholson's gaze, the admiring look of a woman who has
never before been championed, conscious of the fact that he had blurted
out her Christian name and disclosed the secret of that touch of
intimacy between them, Sam grew crimson through his tan. Kate
Nicholson's face was rosy; both were embarrassed.

"Thank you, Mr. Manning," she said. "Please let him get up, and put away
your pistol."

"Git up," said Sam, "an' go pick up them letters."

Keith, humiliated before his secretary and his chauffeur, the latter
gazing wooden-faced but making no attempt at interference, gathered up
the envelopes and presented them, with a bow, to th