Bill here, his 30-40 rifle shoots half-agin as swift as my
automatic--an' he begun shootin' when I did. An' look at the breed,
yonder, stickin' fresh shells in his gun. I bet that bird never
missed--an' he shot jest a hair before I did. An' the pilgrim he shot,
too--but I wouldn't bet on him--he might of missed--but the rest of us
didn't. An' I ain't sayin' you _missed_, mind you. 'Cause I think you
got him every crack out of the box. But he was dead 'fore you started
shootin'. Yup--what you done was to pump about a quart of lead into a
dead man, 'fore he could hit the ground--an', believe me--that's
_shootin'_! But the killin' part--that goes to the fastest guns."

The girl's eyes lighted: "Oh, I--I'm glad I haven't got that on my
conscience. I'd hate to think that I had killed--even him." The next
instant she was gone, and they watched her as she bent low over the
Texan, who had struggled to his elbow.

"Janet--darling," he whispered, "do you know--about--_her_?"

The girl blushed furiously at the words, and the blue-black eyes shone
like twin stars. "Yes," she breathed, "I know. She's at Cinnabar
Joe's--and she told me all about it. And, Tex, I think she's fine!"

The Texan nodded: "She is, an'," he indicated Endicott with a nod of his
head, "there's her husband over there shaking hands with Cass, an' he's
just as fine as she is--they're real folks, girl--but, never mind them.
What I want to know is--will you marry me tomorrow, dear?"

"Tomorrow!"

"Might's well be tomorrow as next week--or next month! Come on--please!
You can't get away from me, so you might as well. An' besides here I am,
shot in the leg an' if you don't give me my own way I'm likely to run a
fever, an' have to get it cut off--so it's up to you, sweetheart--a
one-legged man a month from now, or a two-legged one tomorrow. Which?"

The girl bent very close: "I--I think I'd rather have a two-legged
one--darling." And the next instant the man's arms were about her and
her lips were crushed to his.

"Say, Cass," whispered Bill Harlow, with an eye on the girl who was
bending over the wounded man. "I never shot at Purdy--I got that damned
skunk down there in the rocks that shot Tex."

"Me, too," chimed in Old Bat.

"I shot at him, too," said Endicott.

"Hell!" answered Grimshaw, with a wink, "so did I--but, don't never let
her know."

There was a moment of silence which was broken by Endicott, who stepped
forward and grasped the speaker's ha