ons echoed dully.

"The right spirit!"

"That'll l'arn him to insult a lady."

"You sartinly rattled him up, stranger. Squar' on the twitter!"

"Shake, Mister."

"For a pilgrim you're consider'ble of a hoss."

"If he'd drawn you'd have give him a pill, I reckon, lady. I know yore
kind. But he won't bother you ag'in; not he."

"Oh, what a terrible scene!"

To all this I paid scant attention. I heard her, as she sat composedly,
scarcely panting. The little pistol had disappeared.

"The play has been made, ladies and gentlemen," she said. And to me:
"Thank you. Yes," she continued, with a flash of lucent eyes and a
dimpling smile, "Jim has lost his whiskey and has a chance to sober up.
He'll have forgotten all about this before we reach Benton. But I thank
you for your promptness."

"I didn't want you to shoot him," I stammered. "I was quite able to tend
to him myself. Your pistol is loaded?"

"To be sure it is." And she laughed gaily. Her lips tightened, her eyes
darkened. "And I'd kill him like a dog if he presumed farther. In this
country we women protect ourselves from insult. I always carry my
derringer, sir."

The brakeman returned with a broom, to sweep up the chips of broken
bottle. He grinned at us.

"There's no wind in him now," he communicated. "Peaceful as a baby. We
took his gun off him. I'll pass the word ahead to keep him safe, on from
Cheyenne."

"Please do, Jerry," she bade. "I'd prefer to have no more trouble with
him, for he might not come out so easily next time. He knows that."

"Surely ought to, by golly," the brakeman agreed roundly. "And he ought to
know you go heeled. But that there tanglefoot went to his head. Looks now
as if he'd been kicked in the face by a mule. Haw haw! No offense, friend.
You got me plumb buffaloed with that fivespot o' yourn." And finishing his
job he retired with dust-pan and broom.

"You're going to do well in Benton," she said suddenly, to me, with a nod.
"I regret this scene--I couldn't help it, though, of course. When Jim's
sober he has sense, and never tries to be familiar."

She was amazingly cool under the epithets that he had applied. I admired
her for that as she gazed at me pleadingly.

"A drunken man is not responsible for words or actions, although he should
be made so," I consoled her. "Possibly I should not have struck him. In
the Far West you may be more accustomed to these episodes than we are in
the East."

"I don't know. There is a