him!"

Nick's face showed that the message was to his liking. It was evident,
also, that he meant to lose no time in delivering it. A moment after he
disappeared, Rance, who had been toying with a twenty dollar gold piece
which he took from his pocket, turned to the Girl and said with great
earnestness:

"Girl, I'll give you a thousand dollars on the spot for a kiss," which
offer met with no response other than a nervous little laugh and the
words:

"Some men invite bein' played."

The gambler shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, what are men made for?" said he, flinging the gold piece down on
the bar in payment for the cigar.

"That's true," placidly commented the Girl, making the change.

Rance tried another tack.

"You can't keep on running this place alone; it's getting too big for
you; too much money circulating through The Polka. You need a man behind
you." All this was said in short, jerky sentences; moreover, when she
placed his change in front of him he pushed it back almost angrily.

"Come now, marry me," again he pleaded.

"Nope."

"My wife won't know it."

"Nope."

"Now, see here, there's just one--"

"Nope--take it straight, Jack, nope . . ." interrupted the Girl. She had
made up her mind that he had gone far enough; and firmly grabbing his
hand she slipped his change into it.

Without a word the Sheriff dropped the coins into the cuspidor. The
Girl saw the action and her eyes flashed with anger. The next moment,
however, she looked up at him and said more gently than any time yet:

"No, Jack, I can't marry you. Ah, come along--start your game again--go
on, Jack." And so saying she came out from behind the bar and went over
to the faro table with: "Whoop la! Mula! Go! Good Lord, look at that
faro table!"

But Rance was on the verge of losing control of himself. There was
passion in his steely grey eyes when he advanced towards her, but
although the Girl saw the look she did not flinch, and met it in a
clear, straight glance.

"Look here, Jack Rance," she said, "let's have it out right now. I run
The Polka 'cause I like it. My father taught me the business an', well,
don't you worry 'bout me--I can look after m'self. I carry my little
wepping"--and with that she touched significantly the little pocket of
her dress. "I'm independent, I'm happy, The Polka's payin', an' it's
bully!" she wound up, laughing. Then, with one of her quick changes of
mood, she turned upon him angrily and demande