a self-starter. He's a peppermist. He's
a regular guy. It wasn't only the way he smashed those thugs--taken
by surprise and all--but that he had judgment enough not to shoot when
there was no need for it; that's what gets me! And then he went and
spoiled it all."

"How?"

"Hiking on up to the ranch with the Major, without even waking you up.
Why, if it was me, do you s'pose I'd leave another man--no matter how
old and safe he was--to tell such a story as that his own way and hog
all the credit for himself? That Las Uvas push is a four-flush--he
needn't stir a peg for them. No, sir! I'd have stayed right there till
you got ready to come--and every time I'd narrate that tale about the
scrap it would get scarier and scarier."

"I know, without telling, what my Chris does is the brave thing, the
best thing," said the girl, with softly shining eyes. "And he
never brags--any more than you do, Wes. You're always making fun of
yourself. And I'm afraid you don't know how serious a menace this Las
Uvas gang is. It isn't what Chris may do or may not do. All they want
is a pretext. Why, John, there are men down there who are really
quite truthful--as men go--till they get on the witness stand. But the
minute they're under oath they begin to lie. Force of habit, I guess.
The whole courthouse ring hates Chris and fears him--especially Matt
Lisner, the sheriff. In the old trouble, whenever he was outwitted or
outfought, Chris did it. Besides----" She paused; the color swept to
her cheek.

"Besides--you. Yes, yes," grumbled Pringle. "Might have been expected.
These women! Does the Foy-boy know?"

"He knows that Lisner wanted to marry me," said Stella. Neck and cheek
were crimson now; but it was characteristic that her level eyes met
Pringle's fearlessly. "But before that--he--he persecuted me, John.
Chris must not know. He would kill him. But I wanted you to know in
case anything happened to Chris. There is nothing they will stick at,
these men. Lisner is the vilest; he hates Chris worst of all." She was
in deep distress; there were tears in her eyes as she smiled at him.
"And I wish--oh, John Wesley, you don't know how I wish you were
staying here--dear old friend!"

"As a dear and highly valuable old friend," said Pringle sedately,
"let me point out how shrewd and sensible a plan it would be for you
and your Chris to go on a honeymoon at once--and never come back."

"I am beginning to think so. Up to last night I had only m