“You’ve no idea how secure it makes me feel just to hear you speak that way.” “Honest?” “Yes, for I know that you could keep danger and trouble far away from me.” He cleared his throat. His chest arched. “Which I’d say I throw a six-gun about as fast as anybody in these parts.” “‘Throw a six-gun,’ Mr. Carey?” “Sure,” he explained. “Flash a six--pull a cannon--draw my revolver.” “Oh, Mr. Carey! Do you mean that you have ever drawn your revolver upon a man?” “On a man? Me? I guess maybe you ain’t heard any of the boys tell about me!” “Oh, yes. Of course, I’ve heard a great deal about Dave Carey. You’re the first man Mr. Carrigan pointed out to me when I came into the dance-hall.” “Is that straight? Well, Carrigan ain’t a bad hand himself, I guess, but you can see by the way he handles himself that he ain’t much in a fight.” “Can you tell simply by looking at a man?” “Easiest thing in the world. Watch their hands. Look at big Maurie Gordon over there. Too big! All beef! No nerve! If him an’ me was to mix, I’d fill him full of lead before he ever got his gun clear.” “_Mr. Corey!_ You wouldn’t shoot at poor Mr. Gordon?” “He knows enough not to pick no trouble with me.” “Mr. Carey, somehow I feel that I can talk frankly to you!” He swelled visibly. His face was red. “Tag-dance!” bellowed the announcer. Carrigan was rising to dance again with Dolly Maxwell. The solemn face of Ben Craig drew near. His stare was a promise as she started off with Dave Carey. With the rehearsal on Maurie Gordon to help, she talked very smoothly now. She reached her great point: “But they cannot bury me in this country. I look upon the stars at night and do not feel alone. And I feel the strength and truth of the men of the desert. Somewhere among them I shall find--” Here she noted Carrigan standing unemployed at the edge of the hall. He had been tagged quickly, of course, because of pretty Dolly Maxwell. She signaled him with a great appeal in her eyes and before they had taken half a dozen more steps his hand fell on the arm of Carey. As she slipped into the arms of Carrigan, her smile of farewell to Carey was sad and wistful. He stood stock still in the middle of the floor, jolted freely by the passing couples. In his eyes was a melancholy light of the sea-bound traveler who sees the last towers of his home port drop below the horizon. CHAPTER VII. THE ROPING OF CARRIGAN. “Carey and Gordon roped, tied, and branded,” said Carrigan. “But don’t forget that powder puff.” “Carrigan, let me talk. I’ve been passing such a line of fancy lingo that my throat is dusty. I’ve been rememberin’ everything that I ever read in love stories an’ if I can’t be myself for a minute I’ll choke for want of fresh air.” “Thought you were having a pretty fair sort of a time,” said Carrigan, absently. His eyes were traveling over her head. She caught a glimpse of bright-haired Dolly Maxwell as they whirled. He was drifting away from her--that was plain.