me wild-cherry
blossoms, too, down beside that little creek that crosses the trail
almost at the edge of the town." Together they walked to the creek
that burbled over its rocky bed in the shadow of the bull-pine forest
from which Timber City derived its name. Deeper and deeper into the
pines they went, stopping here and there to gather the tiny white and
blue blossoms, or to break the bloom-laden twigs from the low cherry
bushes. As they rounded a huge upstanding rock, both paused and
involuntarily drew back. There, in the centre of a tiny glade that
gave a wide view of the vast sweep of the plains, with their background
of distant mountains, stood the Texan, one arm thrown across the neck
of his horse, and his cheek resting close against the animal's glossy
neck. For a moment they watched as he stood with his eyes fixed on the
far horizon.

"Go back a little way," whispered Endicott. "I want to speak with
him." The girl obeyed, and he stepped boldly into the open.

"Tex!"

The man whirled. "What you doin' here?" his face flushed red, then,
with an effort, he smiled, as his eyes rested upon the blossoms.
"Pickin' posies?"

"Yes," answered Endicott, striving to speak lightly, "for a very
special occasion. We are to be married at half-past four, and we want
you to be there--just you, and Bat, and the parson. I hunted the town
for you and when I found your horse gone I--we thought you had ridden
away without even saying good-bye."

"No," answered the cowboy slowly, "I didn't do that. I was goin'
back--just for a minute--at stage time. But, it's better this way. In
rooms--like at dinner, I ain't at home, any more. It's better out here
in the open. I won't go to your weddin'. Damn it, man, I _can't_!
I'm more than half-savage, I reckon. By the savage half of me, I ought
to kill you. I ought to hate you--but I can't. About a lot of things
you're green as hell. You can't shoot, nor ride, nor rope, nor do
hardly any other damn thing a man ought to do. But, at that, you whirl
a bigger loop than I do. You've got the nerve, an' the head, an' the
heart. You're a man. The girl loves you. An' I love her. My God,
man! More than all the world, I love the woman who is to be your
wife--an' I have no right to! I tell you I'm half-savage! Take her,
an' go! Go fast, an' go a long time! I never want to hear of you
again. But--I can still say--good luck!" he extended his hand and
Endicott seized it.