"Yes, you did--and I do. He's a self-starter. He's a peppermist. He's
a regular guy. It wasn't only the way he smashed those thugs--taken
by surprise and all--but that he had judgment enough not to shoot when
there was no need for it; that's what gets me! And then he went and
spoiled it all."

"How?"

"Hiking on up to the ranch with the Major, without even waking you up.
Why, if it was me, do you s'pose I'd leave another man--no matter how
old and safe he was--to tell such a story as that his own way and hog
all the credit for himself? That Las Uvas push is a four-flush--he
needn't stir a peg for them. No, sir! I'd have stayed right there till
you got ready to come--and every time I'd narrate that tale about the
scrap it would get scarier and scarier."

"I know, without telling, what my Chris does is the brave thing, the
best thing," said the girl, with softly shining eyes. "And he
never brags--any more than you do, Wes. You're always making fun of
yourself. And I'm afraid you don't know how serious a menace this Las
Uvas gang is. It isn't what Chris may do or may not do. All they want
is a pretext. Why, John, there are men down there who are really
quite truthful--as men go--till they get on the witness stand. But the
minute they're under oath they begin to lie. Force of habit, I guess.
The whole courthouse ring hates Chris and fears him--especially Matt
Lisner, the sheriff. In the old trouble, whenever he was outwitted or
outfought, Chris did it. Besides----" She paused; the color swept to
her cheek.