XVII
MINTIE
Mintie stood upon the porch of the old adobe, shading her brown eyesfrom the sun, now declining out of stainless skies into the brush-hills to the west of the ranch. The hand shading the eyes trembled;the red lips were pressed together; faint lines upon the brow andabout the mouth indicated anxiety, and possibly fear. A trapper wouldhave recognised in the expression of the face a watchful intensity orapprehension common to all animals who have reason to know themselvesto be the prey of others.
Suddenly a shot rang out, repeating itself in echoes from the canonbehind the house. Mintie turned pale, and then laughed derisively.
"Gee!" she exclaimed. "How easy scairt I am!"
She sank, gaspingly, upon a chair, and began to fan herself with theskirt of her gown. Then, as if angry on account of a weakness,physical rather than mental, she stood up and smiled defiantly,showing her small white teeth. She was still trembling; and remarkingthis, she stamped upon the floor of the porch, and became rigid. Herface charmed because of its irregularity. Her skin was a clear brown,matching the eyes and hair. She had the grace and vigour of anunbroken filly at large upon the range. And, indeed, she had been bornin the wilderness, and left it but seldom. Her father's ranch layforty miles from San Lorenzo, high up in the foothills--a steriletract of scrub--oak and cedar, of manzanita and chaparral, with hereand there good grazing ground, and lower down, where the creek ran, ahundred acres of arable land. Behind the house bubbled a big springwhich irrigated the orchard and garden.
Teamsters, hauling grain from the Carisa Plains to the San Lorenzolanding, a distance of nearly a hundred miles, would beguilethemselves thinking of the apples which old man Ransom would be sureto offer, and the first big drink from the cold spring.
Mintie was about to enter the house, when she saw down the road a tinyreek of white dust. "Gee!" she exclaimed for the second time.
"Who's this?"
Being summer, the hauling had not yet begun. Mintie, who had thevision of a turkey-buzzard, stared at the reek of dust.
"Smoky Jack, I reckon," she said disdainfully. Nevertheless, she wentinto the house, and when she reappeared a minute later her hairdisplayed a slightly more ordered disorder, and she had donned a cleanapron.
She expressed surprise rather than pleasure when a young man rode up,shifted in his saddle, and said:--
"How air you folks makin' it?"
"Pretty fair. Goin' to town?"
"I thought, mebbe, of goin' to town nex' week. I come over jest topass the time o' day with the old man."
"Rode ten miles to pass the time o' day with--Pap?"
"Yas."
"Curiously fond men air of each other!"
"That's so," said Smoky admiringly. "An' livin' alone puts notions o'love and tenderness into my head that never comed thar when Maw wasalive an' kickin'. I tell yer, its awful lonesome on my place."
He sat up in his saddle, a handsome young fellow, the vaquero ratherthan the cowboy, a distinction well understood in California. JohnShort had been nicknamed Smoky Jack because of his indefatigableefforts to clear his own brush-hills by fire. Across his saddle was along-barrelled, old-fashioned rifle. Mintie glanced at it.
"Was that you who fired jest now?"
"Nit," said Smoky. "I heard a shot," he added. "'Twas the old man. I'dknow the crack of his Sharp anywheres. 'Tis the dead spit o' mine.There'll be buck's liver for supper sure."
"Why are you carryin' a gun?"
"I thought I might run acrost a deer."
"No other reason?"
Beneath her steady glance his blue eyes fell. He replied withrestraint--
"I wouldn't trust some o' these squatters any further than I couldsling a bull by the tail. Your Pap had any more trouble with 'em?"
Mintie answered savagely:--
"They're a-huntin' trouble. Likely as not they'll find it, too."
Smoky grinned. Being the son of an old settler, he held squatters indetestation. Of late years they had invaded the foothills. Pap Ransomwas openly at feud with them. They stole his cattle, cut his fences,and one of them, Jake Farge, had dared to take up a claim inside theold man's back-pasture.
Smoky stared at Mintie. Then he said abruptly--
"You look kinder peaky-faced. Anything wrong?"
"Nothing," replied Mintie.
"You ain't a-worryin' about your Pap, air ye? I reckon he kin takekeer of himself."
"I reckon he kin; so kin his daughter."
"Shall I put my plug into the barn?"
"We're mighty short of hay," said Mintie inhospitably.
Smoky Jack stared at her and laughed. Then he slipped from the saddle,pulled the reins over the horse's head, and threw the ends on theground. With a deprecating smile he said softly--
"Air you very extry busy, Mints?"
"Not very extry. Why?"
"I've a notion to read ye something. It come to me las' Sunday week inthe middle of the night. An' now it's slicked up to the Queen'staste."
"Poetry?"
"I dunno as it's that--after the remarks you passed about that leetlepiece I sent to the _Tribune_."
"You sent it? Of all the nerve----! Did they print it?"
Smoky Jack shook his head.
"Never expected they would," he admitted mournfully. "I won't denythat it was kind o'----"
"Slushy?" hazarded Mintie.
"Wal--yes. You'd made all sorts of a dodgasted fool outer me."
"Yer father and mother done that."
"I've said as much to Maw, many's the time. 'Maw' I'd say, 'I ain't amasterpiece--and I know it.' But las' Sunday night I was_in_spired."
He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. Mintie frowned. With a shyglance and heightened colour the man who had been inspired whisperedsoftly--
"It's entitled, 'To My Own Brown Bird.'"
"And who's your brown bird?" demanded Mintie sharply.
"As if you didn't know."
"Meanin' me?"
"Couldn't naturally be nobody else."
"I'm not yours; and as for bein' brown, why, my skin is white asmilk."
"I'll bet my life it is."
"As for bein' a bird, that ain't no compliment. Birds is first cousinsto snakes. Never knew that, did ye?"
"Never--s'elp me! Is that really so?"
Covered with mortification, he put the paper back into his pocket.
"Read it," commanded the young lady. "Let's get it over an' done with.Then, mebbe, I'll help ye to rechristen the durned thing."
Emboldened by this gracious speech, Smoky began in a nasal, drawlingvoice--
"I've wandered far--I've wandered wide----"
"Ananias!" said Mintie. "You was born in these yere foothills, andraised in 'em; and you've never known enough to git out of 'em."
"Git out of 'em?"
"Git out of 'em," she repeated scornfully. "D'ye think if I was a manI'd stop in such a God-forsaken place as yours, with nothing butrattlesnakes and coyotes to keep me company? Go on!"
"I've wandered far--I've wandered wide-- I've dwelt in many a stately tower; And now I turn me back to ride To my own brown bird in her humble bower."
"That'll do," said Mintie. "You ain't improved much. Bill Shakespearecan rest easy in his tomb. I've got my chores to do. 'Bout time youwas doin' yours."
Smoky Jack, refusing to budge, said jocosely, "Things air fixed up tohome. 'Twouldn't worry me any if I never got back till to-morrer."
Mintie frowned and went into the house. Smoky led his horse to thebarn with perplexity and distress writ large upon his face.
"Notice to quit," he muttered. Then he grinned pleasantly. "Reckon aperfect gen'leman 'd take the hint and clear out. But I ain't aperfect gen'leman. What in thunder ails the girl?"
* * * * *
It was nearly seven when Pap Ransom reached his corral. Smoky hadmilked the cow and fed the pigs. In the kitchen Mintie was frying somepotatoes and stirring the big pot full o
f beans and bacon. From timeto time Smoky had caught a glimpse of her white apron as she whiskedin and out of the kitchen. Although a singularly modest youth, heconceived the idea that Mintie was interested in his doings, whereaswe must admit that she was more concerned about her father. However,when she saw Pap ascend the hill, carrying his rifle over hisshoulder, her face resumed its ordinary expression, and from thatminute she gave to the simple preparations for supper undividedattention.
"Whar's the liver?" said Smoky, as the old man nodded to him.
"Liver?"
"Heard a shot, jest one, and made certain a good buck was on hisback."
"I never fired no shot," said Ransom slowly.
"Wal, I'm hanged! Is there another Sharp besides mine in these yerehills?"
"I dessay. I heard one shot myself, 'bout two hours ago."
"Guess it was one o' them derned squatters."
"Curse 'em!" said Ransom. He spat upon the ground and walked into theabode. Smoky nodded reflectively.
Supper was not a particularly cheery meal. Mintie, usually a nimbletalker, held her tongue. Ransom aired his pet grievance--the advent ofEasterners, who presumed to take up land which was supposed to belongto, or at least go with, the old Spanish grants. Smoky and Mintie knewwell enough that the land was Uncle Sam's; but they knew also thatRansom had run his cattle over it during five-and-twenty years. Ifthat didn't constitute a better title than a United States patent,there was no justice anywhere. Smoky, filled with beans and bacon,exclaimed vehemently--
"Shoot 'em on sight, that's what I say."
Mintie stared at his bright eyes and flushed cheeks.
"Do you allus mean jest what you say?" she inquired sarcastically.
"Wal," replied Smoky, more cautiously, "they ain't been monkeyin' withme; but if they did----"
"If they did----?" drawled Mintie, with her elbows on the table andher face between her hands.
"If they cut my fence as they've cut yours, and, after doo warnings,kep' on trespassin' and makin' trouble, why then, by Gosh! I'd shoot.Might give 'other feller a show, but there's trouble as only kin besettled with shootin' irons."
"That's so" said Mintie savagely.
After supper Mintie retired to the kitchen to wash up. Ransom put ajar of tobacco on the table, two glasses, and some whisky.
"Any call for ye to ride home to-night?"
"None," said Smoky.
"Reckon ye'd better camp here, then."
Smoky nodded and muttered--
"Don't keer if I do," a polite form of acceptance in the Californiafoothills.
Presently Ransom went out. Smoky was left alone. He filled his corn-cob pipe, stretched out his legs, and smiled, thinking of his ownbrown bird. Suddenly a glint came into his bright blue eyes. In thecorner of the room, against the wall, leaned the two Sharp rifles.Smoky glanced about him, rose, walked to the corner, bent down, andsmelt the muzzle of Ransom's rifle. Then he slipped his forefingerinto the barrel and smelt that.
"Sufferin' Moses!" he exclaimed.
His mouth was slightly twisted, as he picked up the rifle and openedthe breech. He drew out a used cartridge, which he examined withanother exclamation.
"Holy Mackinaw!"
He put the cartridge into his pocket and glanced round for the secondtime. He could hear Mintie washing-up in the kitchen. Ransom wasfeeding his horses. Smoky took a cleaning-rod, ran it through therifle, and examined the bit of cloth, which was wet and greasy. Thenhe replaced the rifle and went back to the table, where Ransom foundhim when he returned a few minutes later. The two men smoked insilence. Presently Ransom said abruptly:--
"Dead struck on Mints, ain't ye?"
"I am," said Smoky laconically.
"Told her so--hay?"
"'Bout a million times."
"What does she say?"
Smoky blew some rings of smoke before he answered.
"She says--'Shucks!'"
"That don't sound encouragin'."
"It ain't. Fact is, she thinks me a clam."
"A clam?"
"That's right. She'd think a heap more o' me if I was to pull out o'these yere hills and try to strike it somewheres else."
"Wal, squatters have made this no kind o' country for a white man.Ye're white, John."
"I aim ter be."
"You air, sonnie. Say, if anything happened to me, would ye watch outfor Mints?"
"I wonder!"
"S'pose, fer the sake of argyment, that one o' these sons o' guns didfor me--hay?"
"'Tain't likely," said Smoky scornfully. "I'd bet my boots on youevery time."
"They may do fer me," said Ransom slowly, "and, if so----"
"I'll watch out for Mints," said Smoky very fervently.
* * * * *
Presently Mintie joined them and, sitting down, began to darn somestockings. Apparently she was engrossed with her work, but Smokystared at her, noticing that her fingers trembled. Ransom smoked andsaid nothing. Smoky talked, trying to challenge Mintie's interest andattention, but sensible of failure. Moreover, he had nothing to talkabout except bad times and bad luck. Father and daughter listenedgrimly, well aware that their friend and neighbour was fightingagainst lack of water, a sterile soil, and a "plastered" ranch.
"Why don't you quit?" Ransom asked testily.
"I ain't a quitter."
"He don't know enough to let go," said Mintie.
"I could earn good money with my uncle in Los Angeles County. He wantsme."
Mintie tossed her head.
"If he wants you, the sooner you skin outer this the better."
"Uncle's well fixed," said Smoky, "and an old bach. He wants a liveyoung man to take aholt with his ranch, and a live young woman to runthe shebang. If I was married----!"
"Pity you ain't," said Mintie, without looking up.
Ransom, who had conducted his courting upon Western principles, roseup slowly and disappeared. Left alone with his beloved, the young manblushed and held his tongue.
"You think a heap o' the old man?" he hazarded, after an interminablepause.
"I do. He's a man, is Pap."
"Meanin'?"
"Anything you please."
"You mean that I ain't a man?"
Mintie laughed softly; and at that moment the old dog, lying by thehearth, got up and growled. Rebuked by Mintie, he continued growling,while the hair upon his aged back began to bristle with rage.
"Hark!" exclaimed Mintie.
They could hear voices outside. The dog barked furiously as somebodyhammered hard upon the door.
"Who can it be?" said Mintie nervously.
Smoky Jack opened the door; four or five men came in. At the dooropposite appeared Ransom.
"What is it?" he asked harshly. "What brings you here at this time o'night?"
The leader of the party, a tall 'Piker,' answered as curtly--
"Business."
"What business?"
"I don't talk business afore wimmenfolks."
Mintie's face was white enough now, and her lips were quivering.
"Come you here, child," said her father.
He looked at her steadily.
"You go to bed an' stay there. Not a word! An' don't worry."
Mintie hesitated, opened her mouth and closed it. Then she walkedquietly out of the room.
"What brings you here?" repeated Ransom.
"Murder."
"Murder? Whose murder?"
"This afternoon," replied the 'Piker,' "Jake Farge was shot dead onyour land, not a quarter of a mile from this yere house. His widderfound him and come to me."
"Wal?"
"She says the shot that killed him must ha' bin fired 'bout six. Sheheard it, an' happened to look at the clock."
"Wal?"
"She swears that you fired it."
Smoky burst in impetuously--
"At six I kin swear that Pap was a-talkin' to me in his own corral."
The squatters glanced at each other. The 'Piker' laughed de
risively.
"In love with his darter, ain't ye?"
"I am--and proud of it!"
"Them your guns?" The spokesman addressed Ransom, indicating the tworifles.
"One of 'em is mine; t'other belongs to Smoky."
The 'Piker' crossed the room, examined the rifles, opened each, andpeered down the barrels. He glanced at the other squatters, and saidlaconically--
"Quite clean--as might be expected."
Ransom betrayed his surprise very slightly. He had just rememberedthat he had left an empty cartridge in his rifle, and that it was notclean.
The 'Piker' turned to him again.
"You claim that you know nothing o' this job?"
"Not a thing."
"And you?"
The big 'Piker' stared superciliously at Smoky.
"Same here," said Smoky.
The visitors glanced at each other, slightly nonplussed. The big'Piker' swore in his beard. "We'll arrest the hull outfit," he saiddecidedly, "and carry 'em in to San Lorenzy."
"You ain't, the sheriff nor his deputy," said Ransom. "What d'yemean," he continued savagely, "by coming here with this ridic'loussong and dance? There's the door. Git!"
"You threatened to shoot Farge," said the 'Piker.' "An' it's my solidbelief you done it in cold blood, too. We're five here, all heeled,and there's more outside. If you're innocent the sheriff'll let youoff to-morrer; but, innocent or guilty, by Gosh, you're comin' with usto-night. Hold up yer hands! Quick!"
Ransom and Smoky held up their hands.
"Search 'em," commanded the 'Piker.'
This was done effectively. A Derringer doesn't take up much room in aman's pocket, but it has been known to turn the tables upon largerweapons. Ransom and Smoky, however, were unarmed; but the squatter whoran his hand over Smoky's pockets encountered a small cylinder, whichhe held up to the public gaze.
It was an empty cartridge.
To understand fully what this meant one must possess a certainknowledge of Western ways and sentiment. Pistols and rifles belongingto the pioneers, for example, often exhibit notches, each of whichbears silent witness to the shedding of blood. The writer knewintimately a very mild, kindly old man who had a strop fashioned outof several thicknesses of Apache skins. The Apaches had inflictedunmentionable torments upon him and his, and the strop was his dearestpossession. The men and women of the wilderness are primal in theirloves and hates.
The big 'Piker' examined the long brass cylinder, small of bore andold-fashioned in shape. He slipped it into the Sharp rifle, andlaughed grimly as he said--
"A relic!"
Ransom's face was impassive; Smoky Jack exhibited a derisive defiance.Inwardly he was cursing himself for a fool in having kept thecartridge. He had intended to throw it away as soon as he foundhimself outside. But from the first he had wanted Mintie's father toknow _that he knew!_ Primal again. Pap would not forget to cleanhis rifle at the first opportunity; and then, without a word on eitherside, he would realise that the man who wanted his daughter was a truefriend.
We may add that the breaking of the sixth commandment in no wiseaffected Smoky. Jake Farge had been warned that he would be shot onsight if he made "trouble." Everybody in San Lorenzo County was wellaware that it was no kind of use "foolin'" with Pap Ransom. Jake--in aword--deserved what he had got. Smoky would have drawn as true a beadupon a squatter disputing title to his land. We don't defend Mr.Short's ethics, we simply state them.
The 'Piker' said quietly--
"Anything to say, young feller?"
Smoky Jack made a gallant attempt to bluff a man who had played hisfirst game of poker before Smoky was born.
"Yer dead right. It _is_ a relic of a big buck I killed with thatther gun las' week. Flopped into a mare's nest, you hev!"
"That shell was fired to-day," said the 'Piker,' authoritatively. "Thepowder ain't dry in it. Boys,"--he glanced round at the circle of grimfaces--"let's take the San Lorenzy road."
* * * * *
The squatters, reinforced by half a dozen men who had not entered theadobe, escorted their prisoners down the hill till they came to alarge live oak, a conspicuous feature of the meadow beyond the creek.The moon shone at the full as she rose majestically above the pineswhich fringed the eastern horizon. In the air was a smell of tar-weed,deliciously aromatic; and the only sounds audible were the whisperingof the tremulous leaves of the cottonwoods and the tinkle of the creekon its way to the Pacific.
Smoky inhaled the fragrance of the tar-weed, and turned his blue eyesto the left, where, in the far distance, a tall pine indicated thenorth-west corner of his ranch. Neither he nor Ransom expected toreach San Lorenzo that night. They were setting out on a much longerjourney.
Under the live oak Judge Lynch opened his court. No time was wasted.The squatters were impressed with the necessity of doing what had tobe done quickly. The big 'Piker' spoke first.
"Boys, ain't it true that in this yere county there ain't bin a singleman executed by the law fer murder in the first degree?"
"That's right. Not a one!"
"And if a man has a bit o' dough behind him, isn't it a fact that hedon't linger overly long in San Quentin?"
"Dead sure snap."
"Boys, this is our affair. We're pore; we've neither money nor time towaste in law courts, but we've got to show some o' these fellers as isholding land as don't belong to 'em that we mean business first, last,and all the time."
There was a hoarse murmur of assent.
"The cold facts are these," continued the speaker. "We all know thatRansom and Jake Farge hev had trouble over the claim that Farge stakedout inside o' Ransom's fence; an' we know that Ransom has no moreright to the land he fenced than the coyotes that run on it. Fortwenty years he's enjoyed the use of what isn't his'n, an' I say he'doughter be thankful. Anyways, we come down to the events of yesterdayand to-day. Yesterday he tole Jake that he'd shoot him on sight if he,Jake, come on to the land which Uncle Sam says is his. Do you denythat?"
"That's 'bout what I tole him," drawled Ransom.
"To-day Jake was shot dead like a dog by somebody who was a-waitin'for him, hidden in the brush. The widder, pore soul, suspicioningtrouble, follered Jake, and found him with a bullet plumb through hisheart. She heard the shot, and she swore that it come from Ransom'sside o' the fence. And she knows and we know that there isn't a man'twixt Maine and Californy with a grudge agen Jake, always exceptin'this yere Ransom."
"That's so," growled the Court.
"Boys, Jake was murdered with a bullet of small bore--not with abullet outer a Winchester, sech as most of us carry. Whar did thatther bullet come from, boys?"
"Outer a Sharp rifle."
"Jest so. Who fired it? Mebbe we'll never know that. But we know this.'Twas fired by one o' these yere men. One was and is accessory tot'other. The boy admits he's sweet on Ransom's gal; an' mebbe he didthis dirt to win her. And he swears that Pap was in his corral at six.That's a lie or it ain't, as may be. If he was in the corral, t'otherwasn't. Boys--I won't detain ye any longer. Those in favour of hangin'Thomas Ransom an' John Short here and now hold up their hands!"
The men present held up their hands. One or two of the morebloodthirsty held up both hands.
"That'll do. Those in favour of takin' the prisoners to San Lorenzyhold up their hands. Nary a hand! Prisoners ye've bin tried by yerfeller-men, and found guilty o' murder in the first degree. Have yeanything to say?"
Smoky answered huskily: "Nothin', 'cept that I'm not guilty."
"An' you, Mr. Ransom?" said the 'Piker,' with odd politeness.
"I've a lot ter say," drawled the old man. "Seemingly murder has beendone, but Smoky here never done it; nor did I. I fired at a buck an'missed it. There ain't overly much o' the fool in me, but there'senough to make me hate ownin' up to a clean miss. When I got to thecorral this evening, Smoky had bin there an hour or so at least. Hearst me if I'd killed a buck and said he'd heard a shot. Wal, I lied,but I saw that he suspicioned me. Afterwards,
I reckon he'd a look atthe old gun, and found the shell in it. He must ha' got it into hisfool head that he was God's appointed instrument to save _me_.He's as innercent as Mary's little lamb, and so am I."
The squatters gazed at each other in stupefaction. Not a man presentbut could lie fearlessly on occasion, but not with such consummate artas this.
"Anything more ter say?" inquired the 'Piker.'
"Wal, there's this: I tole Jake Farge that I'd shoot him on sight, andI'm mighty glad that someone else has saved me the trouble. You meanto do me up; I see that plain. I hated yer comin' into a country thatwon't support a crowd, and I've made things hot for more'n one of ye.But I wasn't thinkin' o' land when I warned Jake Farge not to set footon my ranch."
"What was you thinkin' of?"
"Of my Mintie. That feller--a married man--has bin after her--and someof you know it. She kin take keer of herself can my Mints, but somethings is a man's business. I meant to shoot him, but I didn't. I'mglad the low-down cuss is dead, but the bullet that stopped hiscrawlin' to my gal never come outer my rifle. Now string me up, and bederned to ye, but let this young feller go back to look after mydaughter. That's all."
He faced them with a derisive smile upon his weather-beaten face.
Obviously, the Court was impressed, but the fact remained that JakeFarge was dead, and that someone must have killed him.
"What d'ye say, boys?"
"I say he's lyin'," observed a squatter, whom Thomas Ransom haddiscovered ear-marking an unbranded calf.
"Smoky knows that Pap done it," remarked another.
This bolt went home. Smoky's face during the preceding five minuteshad been worth studying. He was quite sure that the old man was lying,and upon his ingenuous countenance such knowledge, illuminated byadmiration and amazement, was duly inscribed.
"Pap's yarn is too thin," said a gaunt Missourian.
"It's thin as you air," said Ransom contemptuously. "Do you boys thinkthat I'd spring so thin a tale on ye, if it wasn't true?"
At this they wriggled uneasily. The 'Piker,' with some experience offickle crowds, said peremptorily--
"The old man done it, and the young 'un knows he done it. They're jesttwo of a kind. Those in favour of hangin' 'em both hold up theirhands. One hand apiece will do."
Slowly, inexorably, the hands went up. The judge pronounced sentence--
"Ye've five minutes. Say yer prayers, if ye feel like it."
The simple preparations were made swiftly. Two raw-hide lariats wereproperly adjusted. The prisoners looked on with the stoicalindifference of Red Indians. It might have been said of the pair thatneither had known how to live, but each knew how to die.
"Ready?" said the 'Piker.'
"Hold on!" replied a high-pitched voice.
The crowd turned to behold Mintie. She had crawled up silently andstealthily. But now she stood upright, her small head thrown back, hereyes glittering in the moonlight.
"Got a rope fer me?" she asked. "I've heard everything."
Nobody answered. The girl laughed; then she said slowly--
"I shot Jake Farge--with this."
She threw a small revolver at the 'Piker,' who picked it up. "I killedhim at five this afternoon. I knew that if I didn't do it Pap would,and that you'd hang him. Jake came after me agen an' agen, an' eachtime I warned him. To-day he came fer the last time. He was half-crazy, and I had to kill the beast to save myself. I did it, and"--she looked steadfastly at Smoky Jack--"I ain't ashamed of it, neither.There's only one man in all the world can make love to me. I neverknowed that I keered for him till to-night."
She pointed at Smoky, who remarked deprecatingly--
"I allus allowed you was a daughter o' the Golden West."
"If you ain't goin' to hang me," said Mintie, "don't you think you'dbetter skip?"
She laughed scornfully, and the men, without a word, skipped. Smoky,his hands loosed, seized Mintie in his arms, as the moon slippeddiscreetly behind a cloud.