suppose you and I take a turn
down the road and have a look at Jimmy before he goes to sleep."

"Scotty," they were outside and Hard spoke frankly, "I didn't want to
speak of it before the others, but Mrs. Conrad and I have made up our
minds to undo an old mistake. We've going to try life together instead of
apart."

"I hoped you would, Hard. She's a fine woman."

"When I say an old mistake, don't misunderstand me," continued Hard,
soberly. "She and Dick Conrad were happy together. She loved him when she
married him--and she didn't love me. The mistake was mine, in not making
her love me when I had the chance. I've got the chance again and I'm going
to make good this time."

"You're very lucky, Hard. Most fellows don't get a second chance--with the
same woman. Will she come back here with you?"

"I don't know. We're going to be married in Chula Vista and she's going
home just as she had planned. I can't go, of course, but as soon as Street
comes back I'll either go to her or she'll come to me. She hasn't given up
her music and I don't want her to. It's all rather hazy, Scott. I only
know that I let her get away from me once, and, selfish brute that I am,
I'm going to tie her to me now while she's in the humor."

CHAPTER XIX

POLLY MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE

Not far from the Mexican border lies the town of Chula Vista, New Mexico.
It is a small town, does not even boast of a railroad connection nearer
than twenty-five or thirty miles, being, like Conejo, on a bi-weekly spur;
but it is a town of reputation and a not altogether blameable civic
pride.

It has borne its part in the border warfare with credit. It has
slaughtered and been slaughtered, one might say, and rather enjoyed both
proceedings. When, some years ago, a Mexican bandit raided Chula Vista and
carried off a young woman, the citizens of the town organized an
expedition, followed him across the line, and recovered the lady, none the
worse for her experience; which proves not only that Chula Vista is a
wide-awake town, but that some bandits are not as black as they are
painted.

Chula Vista, on the afternoon when our party entered it, duly chaperoned
by the aged Mendoza, presented an everyday appearance. The Chula Vista
Trading Company was doing its usual business, and, as this was before the
days of prohibition, several saloons were doing what they could to relieve
a universal thirst. An ambitious building of brick, the new schoolhouse,
wi