us, untamed, she held him by her faults where virtues would
hardly have sufficed in another. He had tried, and failed; so long as
she was in the world he must love her. But what a life! He cast the
letter from him and his heart turned to Jeff and the big fight, the
battle that they had planned to wage together. In the rush and
struggle of that combat he could forget the pangs which tortured him;
he could have his revenge on life, which had treated him so shabbily!
And yet--and yet--could he desert a friend like Lucy--Lucy who would
give her life to make him happier, who had always by every act tried
to make him forget his sorrows?

For a long time he sat with his head bowed, thinking. Then he rose up
and took down his long-barrelled Colt's, fingered it lovingly, and
thrust it, scabbard and all, into the depths of his war bag.

As he rode down the hill into the camp that afternoon Creede came out
to meet him, and when his eyes fell upon the empty belt, he smiled
knowingly.

"Well, you woke up, did you?" he inquired, laying one hand carelessly
on the bulge in Hardy's right shap, where modest cowboys sometimes
secrete their guns. "Um-huh!" he grunted, slapping the left shap to
make sure. "I suspected as much. Well, I congratulate you, supe--if my
girl had asked me I reckon I'd've give up my gun too. But she gimme a
kiss, anyway," he added, tossing his head triumphantly.

"Who did?" demanded Hardy, coming suddenly out of his dream.

"Why, Kitty, sure," returned Creede artlessly; and then, noting the
look of incredulity on his partner's face, he slapped him on the leg
and laughed consumedly.

"Oh, you're not the only pebble on the beach," he cried. "Ump-um--there
are others! Say, it's hell to be in love, ain't it?"

He looked up at Hardy, the laughter still in his cheeks, but for once
there was no answering smile. The large gray eyes were far away and
distant, fixed vacantly upon the dust cloud where the sheep gathered
in the east. Then, as if dismissing some haunting vision from his
mind, the little man shook himself and drew away.

"That's right," he said solemnly, "it is."

CHAPTER XVII

CHICO AND GRANDE

Between the mouth of Hell's Hip Pocket and the cow camp at Carrizo
Creek there lie three high ridges and three broad valleys, all running
north and south from the Peaks to Bronco Mesa--the heart of the upper
range; and there in compact bands the invaders held their sheep. From
the lower levels they