was on the watch and pretty drunk. When she came--well, I got
Padre Marcos and tried to bully her into marrying me."

"Oh, Lord!" Florence gasped. "It's worse than I feared. . . .
Gene, Al will kill you."

"That'll be a good thing," replied the cowboy, dejectedly.

"Gene Stewart, it certainly would, unless you turn over a new
leaf," retorted Florence. "But don't be a fool." And here she
became earnest and appealing. "Go away, Gene. Go join the
rebels across the border--you're always threatening that.
Anyhow, don't stay here and run any chance of stirring Al up.
He'd kill you just the same as you would kill another man for
insulting your sister. Don't make trouble for Al. That'd only
make sorrow for her, Gene."

The subtle import was not lost upon Madeline. She was distressed
because she could not avoid hearing what was not meant for her
ears. She made an effort not to listen, and it was futile.

"Flo, you can't see this a man's way," he replied, quietly.
"I'll stay and take my medicine."

"Gene, I could sure swear at you or any other pig-head of a
cowboy. Listen. My brother-in-law, Jack, heard something of
what I said to you last night. He doesn't like you. I'm afraid
he'll tell Al. For Heaven's sake, man, go down-town and shut him
up and yourself, too."