be powerful willin' to hev me."

"If she be so disposed there can't be much difficulty in the matter.
You mean to marry her, I presume?"

"In coorse I duz--that for sartin'. The feelin's I hev torst that gurl
air diffrent to them as one hez for Injun squaws, or the queeries I've
danced wi' in the fandangoes o' San Antone. Ef she'll agree to be myen,
I meen nothin' short o' the hon'rable saramony o' marridge--same as
atween man an' wife. What do ye think o't?"

"I think, Walt, you might do worse than get married. You're old enough
to become a Benedict, and Conchita appears to be just the sort of girl
that would suit you. I've heard it said that these Mexican women make
the best of wives--when married to Americans."

Hamersley smiles, as though this thought were pleasant to him.

"There are several things," he continues, "that it will be necessary for
you to arrange before you can bring about the event you're aiming at.
First, you must get the girl's consent: and, I should think, also that
of her master and mistress. They are, as it were, her guardians, and,
to a certain extent, responsible for her being properly bestowed. Last
of all, you'll require the sanction of the Church. This, indeed, may be
your greatest difficulty. To make you and your sweetheart one, a
priest, or Protestant clergyman, will be needed; and neither can be had
very conveniently here, in the centre of the Staked Plain."

"Durn both sorts!" exclaims the ex-Ranger in a tone of chagrin. "Ef't
warn't for the need o' 'em jest now, I say the Staked Plain air better
'ithout 'em, as wu'd anywars else. Why can't she an' me be tied
thegither 'ithout any sech senseless saramony? Walt Wilder wants no
mumblin' o' prayers at splicin' him to the gurl he's choosed for his
partner. An' why shed thar be, supposin' we both gie our mutooal
promises one to the tother?"

"True. But that would not be marriage such as would lawfully and
legally make you man and wife."

"Doggone the lawfulness or legullity o' it! Priest or no priest, I want
Concheteter for my squaw; an' I've made up my mind to hev her. Say,
Frank! Don't ye think the old doc ked do it? He air a sort o'
professional."

"No, no; the doctor would be of no use in that capacity. It's his
business to unite broken bones, not hands and hearts. But, Walt, if you
are really resolved on the thing, there will, no doubt, be an
opportunity to carry out your intention in a correct and legitima