ng in with Blount to beat
me out of my mine. First you sneak off with my gun, so I can't protect
my rights, and then Stiff Neck George comes up and jumps the Paymaster!"

"The hell!" burst out Wiley, rising up in his seat and looking across at
the mine.

"Yes, the hell," she returned, "and he's warned off all comers and is
holding the mine for Blount!"

"For Blount!" he echoed and, seeing him roused at last, the Widow became
subtly provocative.

"For Samuel J. Blount," she repeated impressively. "He--he's got all my
stock on a loan."

"Oh!" observed Wiley, and as she raved on with her story he rubbed his
chin in deep thought.

"Yes, I went down to see him and he wouldn't buy it, so I left it as
collateral on a loan. And then he came out here and looked over the mine
again and told Stiff Neck George to stand guard. They're fixing to pump
out the water."

"Oho!" exclaimed Wiley, and his eyes began to kindle as he realized what
Blount had done. Then reaching for the pistol that lay handy beside his
leg, he leapt out with waspish quickness, only to stop short as he hurt
his lame foot.

"Go on!" hissed the Widow, advancing to his shoulder and pointing the
way up the trail. "He stays right there by the dump. The mine is yours;
go put him off--I would, if I had my gun."

"Aw, pfooey!" he exclaimed, suddenly turning back and clamoring into his
seat. "I've got one game leg already. Let 'im have the doggoned mine."

"What? Are you going to back out? Well, you are a good one--and it
stands in your name, this minute!"

"Yes, and it isn't worth--that!" he said with conviction, and snapped
his finger in the air. "He can have it. You can tell Blount, the next
time you see him, he can buy in that tax title for the costs."

He paused and muttered angrily, gazing off towards the dump where
crooked-necked George stood guard, and then he hopped out to crank up.

"Want a ride?" he asked, as he saw Virginia watching him and she
hesitated and shook her head. "Come on," he smiled, casting aside his
black mood, "let's take a little spin--just down on the desert and back.
What's going on--getting ready to move?"

He gazed with alarm at a pile of packing boxes that the Widow had
marshaled on the gallery and then he looked back at Virginia. She was
attired in a gown that had been very chic in the fall of nineteen ten,
but, though it was scant for these bouffant days, she was the old
Virginia still--slim and strong and dainty, and