sometimes," suggested Bard, "a bore."

It was an excellent opening for a quarrel, but Nash was remembering
religiously a certain thousand dollars, and also a gesture of William
Drew when he seemed to be breaking an imaginary twig. So he merely
lighted his cigarette and seemed to have heard nothing.

"The whole town," he remarked casually, "seems scared stiff by this
Butch; but of course he ain't comin' back to-night."

"I suppose," said the tenderfoot, after a cold pause, "that he will
not."

But the coldness reacted like the most genial warmth upon Nash. He had
chosen a part detestable to him but necessary to his business. He must
be a "gabber" for the nonce, a free talker, a chatterer, who would cover
up all pauses.

"Kind of strange to ride into a dark town like this," he began, "but I
could tell you a story about--"

"Oh, Steve," called the voice of Sally from the kitchen.

He rose and nodded to Bard.

"'Scuse me, I'll be back in a minute."

"Thanks," answered the other, with a somewhat grim emphasis.

In the kitchen Sally spoke without prelude. "What deviltry are you up to
now, Steve?"

"Me?" he repeated with eyes widened by innocence. "What d'you mean,
Sally?"

"Don't four-flush me, Steve."

"Is eating in your place deviltry?"

"Am I blind?" she answered hotly. "Have I got spring-halt, maybe? You're
too polite, Steve; I can always tell when you're on the way to a little
bell of your own making, by the way you get sort of kind and warmed up.
What is it now?"

"Kiss me, Sally, and I'll tell you why I came to town."

She said with a touch of colour: "I'll see you--" and then changing
quickly, she slipped inside his ready arms with a smile and tilted up
her face.

"Now what is it, Steve?"

"This," he answered.

"What d'you mean?"

"You know me, Sally. I've worn out the other ways of raising hell, so I
thought I'd start a little by coming to Eldara to kiss you."

Her open hand cracked sharply twice on his lean face and she was out of
his arms. He followed, laughing, but she armed herself with a red-hot
frying pan and defied him.

"You ain't even a good sport, Steve. I'm done with you! Kiss you?"

He said calmly: "I see the hell is startin', all right."

But she changed at once, and smiled up to him.

"I can't stay mad at you, Steve. I s'pose it's because of your nerve. I
want you to do something for me."

"What?"

"Is that a way to take it! I've asked you a favour, Steve."

He sai