g to back
out, are you?"

"No, but--"

"You better not," he retorted with a threatening look. "I ain't the kind
of man it's safe to jilt."

"You promised me all the time I wanted," she repeated. "You wouldn't
hurry me. That was what you said," she sobbed, breaking down suddenly.

"All right," he conceded ungraciously. "I'm not forcing you to marry me
now. But I thought it best, seeing as I've got to ask you to go with me,
anyhow. O' course I can put you in charge of Carmen to chaperon you.
She's the woman that keeps house for Pasquale. But it kinder seemed to
me it would be better if you went as my wife. Then I could take care of
you."

"Go with you--now? What do you mean, Chad?"

"It's this fellow Yeager. He's shot himself, and he wants to see you
before he dies." From his pocket he took the note Steve had written to
Threewit and handed it to Ruth. "You don't have to go, but I hate to
turn down a fellow when he's all in and ready to quit the game."

She read the note, her face like chalk. Not for a moment did she doubt
that the cowpuncher had written it. Even if her mind had harbored any
vague suspicions one line in the letter would have swept them away.
_Bust up that marriage if you can._ She knew to what marriage he
referred. Nobody but Yeager could have written those words.

"But he says--he says"--her voice shook, but she forced herself to go
on--"that this letter isn't to be sent until his death."

"Yep. So it does. But he got to asking for you. So I just lit out to
give you a chance to go if you want to. It's up to you. Do just as you
please."

"Of course I'll go. Is he--is he as bad as he says?"

"Pretty bad, the doc says. But I reckon he's good for a day or two. My
advice would be to start right away, though, if you want to see him
alive."

"Yes. That would be best. I'll see mother now." She stopped at the door
and leaned against the jamb a little faintly, then turned toward him.
"It was fine of you to come, Chad. I know you don't like him. But--I
won't forget."

"Oh, tha's all right," he mumbled.

"Have you seen Mr. Threewit yet?" she asked.

"Threewit--no." He was for a moment puzzled at her question. "No--he's
out getting a set somewheres in the hills."

Ruth came back and took the note from Harrison's reluctant fingers. "He
ought to get this at once. I'll send Billie Brown out with it. He'll
explain to Mr. Threewit about us going on ahead and not waiting for
him."

The prizefighter d