forgit it, but Rim is jest naturally a fool!"

He stopped for breath and Rimrock set back sullenly without raising his
eyes from the floor.

"Now!" said L. W. as he winced at the pull, "you can decide what you're
going to do. Are you going to bust my arm, where I got it shot in two
jest by fighting Ike Bray for your mine; or are you going to stan' up
here and apologize like a gentleman for saying Miss Fortune sold you
out."

"I'll apologize, doggone you," answered Rimrock between his teeth, "if
you'll shut up and let go my coat."

"Well, all right, then," sighed L. W. as he cradled his injured arm,
"I'll wait for you at the head of the stairs."

"You do and I'll kill you," returned Rimrock savagely. "Go on,
now--and don't you come back."

He waved a threatening hand at the belligerent L. W. and watched him
till he passed down the stairs. Then, turning to Mary, he set his
mouth and looked her over grimly.

"Well, I apologize," he said. "Does that make you feel better? And
now I hope I may go."

"No, you can't," she replied. "Now it's my turn to apologize. And I
hope you have good luck."

She held out her hand and he glanced at it questioningly, then reached
out and took it in his.

"I mean it," he said with sudden earnestness. "I sure-enough
apologize. I'm sorry for what I done."

She patted his hand where it still held hers fast and bowed her head to
keep back the tears.

"It's all right," she said. "We could never be happy. It's better to
have you go."

"I'll come back!" he said with impulsive gladness. "I'll come back--if
you say the word."

"Well--come back, then," she answered. "But not to quarrel; not to
haggle, and backbite and scold! Oh, it makes me so ashamed! I used to
be reasonable; but it doesn't seem possible now. I can't even save
your mine, that you killed a man over and went to prison to defend; I
can't even do that but in such a hateful way that you won't accept it
as a gift."

"Aw, you take it too hard," protested Rimrock feebly. "Say, come on
over here and sit down." He led her reluctantly to the ill-fated
balcony, but at the divan she balked and drew back.

"No, not there," she said with a little shudder, and turned back and
sank down in a chair.

"Well, all right," agreed Rimrock, but as he drew up another he
suddenly divined her thought. "Say, I apologize again," he went on
abjectly, "for that time--you know--when she came. I was a Mexican's
dog, there's