ief. I'm a big man."

"You're a big coward," said Mary Warren calmly. "What's a blind woman
to you? Why don't you let me go?"

"Well, even a blind woman can tell what she's heard," said he
thoughtfully. "And then," his coarse voice undertaking a softness
foreign to it, "I'm just as tired as Sim Gage was of keeping house
alone. I'm a better man than Sim Gage. I'm making plenty of money."

She made no reply, leaned back upon the blanket roll.

"Now, then, gal, listen. I like you. You're handsome--the handsomest
gal ever come in this valley. A pretty girl as you shouldn't stay
single, and as good a man as me neither. I work on my ranch, but I'm a
big man, miss. I'm a thinker, you can see that. I'm a leader of the
laboring men. I begun with nothing; and look at me!"

"Well, look at you!" She taunted him. "What would you have been if
you hadn't come to America? You'd be shoveling dirt over there at half
a dollar a day, or else you'd be dead. You think this is Russia? You
call this Germany?"

Pretending to rest her weight on her arm back of her, she felt the
touch of leather, felt the stock of the pistol in the holster.

Her tormentor went on. "We don't need no army--we free men can fight
the way we are. We'll spoil ten million feet of timber in here before
we're through."

"I despise you--I hate you!" she cried suddenly, almost forgetful of
herself. "Why do you come to this country, if you don't like it? If
you hate America, why don't you go back to your own country and live
there? You ought to be hung--I hope to God you will be!"

He only laughed. "That's fine talk for you, ain't it? You'd better
listen to what I tell you." He reached out a hand and touched her arm.

With one movement, of sheer instinct, with a primal half-snarl, she
swung the revolver out of the scabbard behind her, flung it almost into
his face. He cowered, but not soon enough. The shot struck him. He
dropped, tried to escape. She heard him scuffling on the sand, fired
again and missed--fired yet again and heard him cry out, gasping,
begging for mercy.

The range was too short for her to hear the impact of the bullets; she
did not know she had struck him with two shots, the second of which had
broken his leg and left him disabled. She had shot a man. He was
there in front of her, about to die.

"Are you hurt?" she demanded, staring, the revolver in both her hands.
"Keep away. I'll kill you!"

"You---- Don'