صفحة 21 من 439

The man watched the rig sweep along that branch of the road which

led to the south. Then he looked at his wrist and laughed.

"The plucky little devil! She's a thoroughbred for fair. You bet

I'll make her pay for this. But ain't she got sand in her craw?

She's surely hating me proper." He laughed again in remembrance

of the whole episode, finding in it something that stirred his

blood immensely.

After the trap had swept round a curve out of sight he

disappeared in the mesquite and bear-grass, presently returning

with the roan that had been ridden by the escaped convict.

"Whoever would suppose she was the sister of that scurvy scalawag

with jailbird branded all over his hulking hide? He ain't fit to

wipe her little feet on. She's as fine as silk. Think of her

going through what she is to save that coyote, and him as crooked

as a dog's hind leg. There ain't any limit to what a good woman

will do for a man when she thinks he's got a claim on her, more

especially if he's a ruffian."