l take her or kill her," Montoyo snarled. "You call me a feeder, but
she shall not be fed to your mill, Adams. You'll get on that horse pronto,
madam," he added, stepping forward (no one could question his nerve), "and
we'll discuss our affairs in private."

She cast about with swift beseeching look, as if for a friendly face or
sign of rescue. And that agonized quest was enough. Whether she saw me or
not, here I was. With a spring I had burst in.

But somebody already had drawn fresh attention. Daniel Adams was standing
between her and her husband.

"Say, Mister, will yu fight?" he drawled, breathing hard, his broad
nostrils quivering.

A silence fell. Singularly, the circle parted right and left in a jostle
and a scramble.

Montoyo surveyed him.

"Why?"

"For her, o' course."

The gambler smiled--a slow, contemptuous smile while his gray eyes focused
watchfully.

"It's a case where I have nothing to gain," said he. "And you've nothing
to lose. I never bet in the teeth of a pat hand. Sabe? Besides, my young
Mormon cub, when did you enter this game? Where's your ante? For the sport
of it, now, what do you think of putting up, to make it interesting? One
of your mammies? Tut, tut!"

Daniel's freckled bovine face flushed muddy red; in the midst of it his
faulty eyes were more pronounced than ever--beady, twinkling, and so at
cross purposes that they apparently did not center upon the gambler at
all. But his right hand had stiffened at his side--extended there flat and
tremulous like the vibrant tail of a rattlesnake. He blurted harshly:

"I 'laow to kill yu for that. Draw, yu----!"

We caught breath. Montoyo's hand had darted down, and up, with motion too
smooth and elusive for the eye, particularly when our eyes had to be upon
both. His revolver poised half-way out of the scabbard, held there
rigidly, frozen in mid course; for Daniel had laughed loudly over leveled
barrel.

How he had achieved so quickly no man of us knew. Yet there it was--his
Colt's, out, cocked, wicked and yearning and ready.

He whirled it with tempting carelessness, butt first, muzzle first, his
discolored teeth set in a yellow grin. The breath of the spectators vented
in a sigh.

"Haow'll yu take it, Mister?" he gibed. "I could l'arn an old caow to beat
yu on the draw. Aw, shucks! I 'laow yu'd better go back to yore
pasteboards. Naow git!"

Montoyo, his eyes steady, scarcely changed expression. He let his revolver
slip down in