"She's a--a headstrong _little fool_!" he growled under his breath. He
straightened out his legs and stared gloomily at the brass cuspidor.
"Well, I'm through. I vowed once before I'd never have anything more
to do with her--and yet--" He hurled the cigarette at the cuspidor and
took a turn up and down the cramped quarters of the little room. Then
he stalked to his seat, met the fat lady's outraged stare with an
ungentlemanly scowl, procured his hat, and stamped off across the flat
in the direction of the dance-hall. As he entered the room a feeling
of repugnance came over him. The floor was filled with noisy dancers,
and upon a low platform at the opposite end of the room three
shirt-sleeved, collarless fiddlers sawed away at their instruments, as
they marked time with boots and bodies, pausing at intervals to mop
their sweat-glistening faces, or to swig from a bottle proffered by a
passing dancer. Rows of onlookers of both sexes crowded the walls and
Endicott's glance travelled from face to face in a vain search for the
girl.

A little apart from the others the Texan leaned against the wall. The
smoke from a limp cigarette which dangled from the corner of his lips
curled upward, and through the haze of it Endicott saw that the man was
smiling unpleasantly. Their eyes met and Endicott turned toward the
door in hope of finding the girl among the crowd that thronged the
street.

Hardly had he reached the sidewalk when he felt a hand upon his arm,
and turned to stare in surprise into the dark features of a
half-breed,--the same, he remembered, who had helped the Texan to
saddle the outlaw. With a swift motion of the head the man signalled
him to follow, and turned abruptly into the deep shadow of an alley