ghed,
though it fell short like an arrow dropping in front of the target.

"Listen, Bard, you make a pretty good imitation of Samson, but I ain't
cut out for any Delilah. If I'm holding you here, why, cut and run and
forget it."

She drew a long breath and went on more confidently: "It ain't any use;
I'm not cut out for any man--I'd so much rather be--free. I've tried to
get interested in others, but it never works."

She laughed again, more surely, and with a certain hardness like the
ringing of metal against metal, or the after rhythm from the peal of a
bell. With deft, flying fingers she rolled a cigarette, lighted it, and
sat down cross-legged.

Through the first outward puff of smoke went these words: "The only
thing that's a woman about me is skirts. That's straight."

Yet he knew that his power was besieging her on every side. Her power
seemed gone, and she was like a rare flower in the hollow of his hand;
all that he had to do was to close his fingers, and--He despised himself
for it, but he could not resist. Moreover, he half counted on her pride
to make her break away.

"Then if it's hopeless, Sally Fortune, go now."

She answered, with an upward tilt of her chin: "Don't be a fool,
Anthony. If I can't be a woman to you, at least I can be a pal--the best
you've had in these parts. Nope, I'll see you through. Better saddle
now--"

"And start back for Drew?"

There was the thrust that made her start, as if the knife went through
tender flesh.

"Are you such a plumb fool as that?"

"Go now, Sally. I tell you, it's no use. I won't leave the trail of
Drew."

It was only the outward stretch of her arm, only the extension of her
hand, palm up, but it was as if her whole nature expanded toward him in
tenderness.

"Oh, Anthony, if you care for me, don't stay in reach of Drew! You're
breaking--"

She stopped and closed her eyes.

"Breakin' all the rules, like any tenderfoot would be expected to do."

She glanced at him, wistful, to see whether or not she had smoothed it
over; his face was a blank.

"You won't go?"

"Nope."

He insisted cruelly: "Why?"

"Because--because--well, can I leave a baby alone near a fire? Not me!"

Her voice changed. The light and the life was gone from it, but not all
the music. It was low, a little hoarse.

"I guess we can stay here tonight without no danger. And in the
morning--well, the morning can take care of itself. I'm going to turn
in."

He rose obedien