gasted.

"This has been a very bitter business, Thursby," he said. "It's cost
me a lot of cattle and money, and I'll not take back a thing I've said
about Haig's grabbing everything in sight, and ruining his neighbors.
But I will say, after what you've told me, that--damn it, Thursby! he
is a man."

"He's ready to fight with you or talk with you, as you wish."

Huntingdon eyed him suspiciously.

"Did Haig say that?" he demanded.

"He certainly did."

"Then tell him, if he's on the square, it'll be talk."

Claire, ignoring Thursby's presence, ran and snuggled close to Seth,
while he put his arm around her. But it was at Marion, _to_ Marion,
that Seth looked, seeking the approval that he had never before been
able to get from her. Their eyes met, and she nodded, smiling.

"Very well!" said Thursby. "He's coming to see you this afternoon."

"What?" cried Huntington.

"He's coming this afternoon. And he wished me to say explicitly that
he will have no gun."

To Huntington this seemed almost incredible. He was heartily sick of
the warfare, and glad of any way out of it that would not be too
humiliating to himself. But Haig was coming to him; and this meant,
surely, that something had occurred to his enemy that would make the
event easy for himself, if not quite free from embarrassment. He
looked again at Marion; and at last, seeing her radiant countenance,
he understood that this was her achievement, that it was for her Haig
would be coming unarmed to the house of his bitter foe that
afternoon.

"I'm ready," he said to Thursby, with an elation he was only partly
able to conceal.

Smythe was the next visitor, arriving in a state of such contrition
that Marion pitied him. His jaunty air was gone. He was quite unable
to respond to Marion's gentle jesting, seeing that her cheeks were
still sunken and pale, that the body whose graces he had so much
admired was now palpably thin under her loose clothing. He had blamed
himself bitterly for the disaster that had overtaken her, and his
sufferings had been real and lasting.

"If I'd been half a man I'd never have let you go on alone that day,"
he said after she had greeted him brightly, giving him both her
hands.

"Oh, indeed!" retorted Marion. "And what would you have done?"

"Gone with you."

"But I sent you back."

"I was a fool!"

"A fool to do as I told you, Mr. Smythe?" she demanded archly.

"Yes. You didn't know what you were doing."

"But I did kn