muttered. "Very well, you
shall drink with him, then. We will sit together at one of those little
tables. Listen, you shall drink wine."

"I do not want to drink wine with you. All that I wish is to be left
alone," the girl insisted curtly. "Go and play cards, if you want to.
There is Pietro over there, and Diego. Perhaps you may win some money.
They say that drunkards have all the luck."

Jose leered at her.

"Presently I will play cards," he said. "Presently I will win all their
money and I will buy jewelry for you, Marta--stones that look like
diamonds and will sparkle in your neck and in your hair."

She turned disdainfully away.

"I do not want your jewelry, Jose," she declared.

He caught her suddenly by the wrist.

"Perhaps this is what you want," he cried, as he stooped down to kiss her.

She swung her right hand round and struck him on the face. He staggered
back for a moment. There was a red flush which showed through the tan of
his cheek. Then he drew a little nearer to her, and before she could
escape he had passed his long arm around her body. He drew her to the
chair placed by the side of the wall. His left hand played with the knife
at his belt.

"Marta, little sweetheart," he said mockingly, "you must pay for that
blow. Don't be afraid," he went on, as he drew the knife across his
leather breeches. "A little scratch across your cheek, so! It is but the
brand of your master, a love-token from Jose. Steady, now, little
Maverick!"

The girl struggled violently, but Jose was strong, such brawls were
common, and those of the company who noticed at all, merely laughed at the
girl's futile struggles. Jose's arm was already raised with the knife in
his hand, when a sudden blow brought a yell of pain to his lips. The knife
fell clattering to the floor. He sprang up, his eyes red with fury. A man
had entered the door from behind and was standing within a few feet of
him, a man with long, pale face, dark eyes, travel-stained, and with the
air of a fugitive. A flood of incoherent abuse streamed from Jose's lips.
He stooped for the knife. Marta threw herself upon him. The two cowboys
who had been dancing suddenly intervened. The girls screamed.

"It was Jose's fault!" Marta cried. "Jose was mad. He would have killed
me!"

Craig faced them all with sudden courage.

"As I came in," he explained, "that man had his knife raised to stab the
girl. You don't allow that sort of thing, do you, here?"

The t