t a gun!" ordered Pan.

"I've no--gun--" he replied, in husky accents.

"Talk, then. Maybe I can keep from killing you."

"For God's sake--don't shoot me. I'll tell you anything."

"Hardman, you say you--you _married_ my--this girl?" rasped out Pan,
choking over his words as if they were poison, unable to speak of Lucy
as he had thought of her all his life.

"Yes--I married her."

"_Who_ married you?"

"A parson from Salt Lake. Matthews got him here."

"Ah-uh!--Matthews. _How_ did you force her?"

"I swear to God she was willing," went on Hardman. "Her father wanted
her to."

"What? Jim Blake left here for Arizona. I sent him away."

"But he never went--I--I mean he got caught--put in jail again.
Matthews sent for the officers. They came. And they said they'd put
Blake away for ten years. But I got him off... Then Lucy was willing
to marry me--and she did. There's no help for it now... too late."

"_Liar_!" hissed Pan. "You frightened her--tortured her."

"No, I--I didn't do anything. It was her father. He persuaded her."

"Drove her, you mean. And you paid him. Admit it or I'll--" Pan's
move was threatening.

"Yes--yes, I did," jerked out Hardman in a hoarser, lower voice.
Something about his lifelong foe appalled him. He was abject. No
confession of his guilt was needed.

"Go get yourself a gun. You'll have to kill me before you start out on
your honeymoon. Reckon I think you're going to hell.... Get up....
Go get yourself a gun...."

Hardman staggered to his feet, brushing the dirt from his person while
he gazed strickenly at Pan.

"My God, I can't fight you," he said. "You won't murder me in cold
blood... Smith, I'm Lucy's husband... She's my wife."

"And what is Louise Melliss?" whipped out Pan. "What does _she_ say
about your marriage? You ruined her. You brought her here to Marco.
You tired of her. You abandoned her to that hellhole owned by your
father. He got his just deserts and you'll get yours."

Hardman had no answer. Like a dog under the lash he cringed at Pan's
words.

"Get out of my sight," cried Pan, at the end of his endurance. "And
remember the next time I see you, I'll begin to shoot."

Pan struck him, shoved him out into the street. Hardman staggered on,
forgetting his high hat that lay in the dust. He got to going faster
until he broke into an uneven half-run. He kept to the middle of the
street until he reached the Yellow Mine, where