out. Then she'd never know. And maybe you might be more like
you used to be before the West ruined you. But as matters stand you
fight your own game with her; and I'll tell you now, you'll lose."

"What'd you want to let her come out here for?" demanded Wright hotly.
"It was a dead mistake. I've lost my head over her. I'll have her or
die. Don't you think if she was my wife I'd soon pull myself together?
Since she came we've none of us been right. And the gang has put up a
holler. No, Sampson, we've got to settle things to-night."

"Well, we can settle what Diane's concerned in right now," replied
Sampson, rising. "Come on; we'll go ask her. See where you stand."

They went out, leaving the door open. I dropped down to rest myself and
to wait. I would have liked to hear Miss Sampson's answer to him. But I
could guess what it would be. Wright appeared to be all I had thought of
him, and I believed I was going to find out presently that he was worse.
Just then I wanted Steele as never before. Still, he was too big to worm
his way into this place.

The men seemed to be absent a good while, though that feeling might have
been occasioned by my interest and anxiety. Finally I heard heavy steps.
Wright came in alone. He was leaden-faced, humiliated. Then something
abject in him gave place to rage. He strode the room; he cursed.

Sampson returned, now appreciably calmer. I could not but decide that he
felt relief at the evident rejection of Wright's proposal. "Don't fume
about it, George," he said. "You see I can't help it. We're pretty wild
out here, but I can't rope my daughter and give her to you as I would an
unruly steer."

"Sampson, I can _make_ her marry me," declared Wright thickly.

"How?"

"You know the hold I got on you--the deal that made you boss of this
rustler gang?"

"It isn't likely I'd forget," replied Sampson grimly.

"I can go to Diane--tell her that--make her believe I'd tell it
broadcast, tell this Ranger Steele, unless she'd marry me!" Wright spoke
breathlessly, with haggard face and shadowed eyes. He had no shame. He
was simply in the grip of passion. Sampson gazed with dark, controlled
fury at his relative. In that look I saw a strong, unscrupulous man
fallen into evil ways, but still a man. It betrayed Wright to be the
wild and passionate weakling.

I seemed to see also how, during all the years of association, this
strong man had upheld the weak one. But that time had gone forever, both
i