you to tell me now, you won't, or you will. We've
got a week or so yet to get acquainted in. An', here's another thing.
I know, an' you know, down deep in your heart, that you're goin' to
marry either Win, or me. Maybe you know which. I don't. But if it is
him, you'll get a damned good man. He's square an' clean. He's got
nerve--an' there ain't no bluff about it, neither. Wise men don't fool
with a man with an eye like his. An' he wants you as bad as I do. As
I said, we've got a week or more to get acquainted. It will be a week
that may take us through some mighty tough sleddin', but that ain't
goin' to help you none in choosin', because neither one of us will
break--an' you can bet your last stack of blue ones on that."

The girl's lips were pressed very tight, and for some moments she rode
in silence.

"Do you suppose I would ever marry a man who deliberately gets so drunk
he sings and talks incessantly----"

"You'd be safer marryin' one that got drunk deliberately, than one who
done it inadvertent when he aimed to stay sober. Besides, there's
various degrees of drunkenness, the term bein' relative. But for the
sake of argument admittin' I was drunk, if you object to the singin'
and talkin', what do you recommend a man to do when he's drunk?"

"I utterly despise a man that gets drunk!" The words came with an
angry vehemence, and for many minutes the Texan rode in silence while
the bit chains clinked and the horses' hoofs thudded the ground dully.
He leaned forward and his gloved hand gently smoothed his horse's mane.
"You don't mean just exactly that," he said, with his eyes on the dim
outline of a butte that rose high in the distance. Alice noticed that
the bantering tone was gone from his voice, and that his words fell
with a peculiar softness. "I reckon, though, I know what you do mean.
An' I reckon that barrin' some little difference in viewpoint, we think
about alike. . . . Yonder's Antelope Butte. We'll be safe to camp
there till we find out which way the wind blows before we strike
across."

Deeper and deeper they pushed into the bad lands, the huge bulk of
Antelope Butte looming always before them, its outline showing
distinctly in the light of the sinking moon. As far as the eye could
see on every side the moonlight revealed only black lava-rock, deep
black shadows that marked the courses of dry coulees, and enormous
mud-cracks--and Antelope Butte.

As the girl rode beside the cowboy