Curly," said she,
firmly, "you are not telling me the truth."

"I know it, ma'am," replied Curly, amiably; he suddenly realized that
he was not making his own case quite strong enough. "The fact is, he
got hurt a _leetle_ bit worse'n that. His hand, his _left_--no, I
mean his _right_ hand got busted up plenty. Why, he couldn't cut his
own victuals. The fact is, it's maybe even a little worse'n that."

"Tell me the truth!" the girl demanded steadily. "Is his arm gone?"

"Sure it is," replied Curly, cheerfully, glad of assistance. "Do you
reckon Dan Anderson would be gettin' _anybody_ to write to _you_ for
him if he had even a piece of a arm left in the shop? I reckon not!
He ain't that sort of a _man_."

Curly's sudden improvement gave him courage. "The fact is, ma'am,"
said he, "I got to break this thing to you kind of gentle. You know
how that is yourself."

"I know all about it now," she said calmly. "I knew he would not come
back--I saw it in his face. It was all because of that miserable
railroad trouble that he went away--that he didn't ever come. It was
all my own fault--my fault,--but I didn't mean it--I didn't--"

Curly, for the first time in his life, found himself engaged in an
important emotional situation. He rose and gazed down at her with
solemn pity written upon his countenance.

"Ma'am," he said, "I don't like to see you take on. I wish't you
wouldn't. Why, I've seen men shot like Dan Anderson is, bullets clean
through the middle of their body, and them out and frisky in less'n six
weeks."

"He _will_ live?"

"Oh, _well_," and Curly rubbed his chin in deliberation, "I can't say
about _that_. He _might_ live. You see, there ain't no doctor at
Heart's Desire. The boys just took care of him the best they could.
They brung him home from quite a ways off. They--they cut his arm off
easy as they could, them not bein' reg'lar doctors. They--they sewed
him up fine. He was shot some in the fight with the Kid's gang, out to
the Pinos Altos ranch. The sherf tole me hisself Dan was as game a man
as ever throwed a leg over a saddle. When he got back from takin' the
Kid up to Vegas, the sherf--that's Ben Stillson--he starts down to
Cruces. Convention there this week, ma'am. Ben, he allowed he'd get
Dan Anderson nomernated for Congress--that is, if he hadn't 'a' got
killed."

"I knew he was a brave man," said the girl, quietly. "I've known that
a long time."

"You didn't know an