GHOST. He had the Gift. LON. What you mean? GHOST. He was a full man. His personality exuded from him like incense. It wrapped and enfolded you and warmed you, and yet it was not a grain feminine, but deeply, proudly masculine. You tolerated him, I--loved him. I had the fine passion for Padie, but when I first saw the two of them together I _knew_ she was his, or [_with a keen, stern look at Lon_] _ought_ to be ... and she _has_ been, always. LON [_jumping to his feet, and knocking over his chair_]. You lie like hell! She's mine! She's been mine all these three years! I won her and I own her! What little of love she ever had fer you or him is buried down in Laguna Madre with the bones of both of ye! And all hell can't take her from me! GHOST [_rising tall and pale_]. _He_ kin, and he's done it! You _thought_ you'd got her. But he's had her, or rather, she's had _him_ in her heart ever since they took the rope from his neck and pronounced him legally dead, and justice vindicated, and laid him away in the desert. All that time since, he's belonged to her. When you laid by her side nights, it was _his_ arm she felt about her waist, not yours; his breath was on her cheek, and his heart was beating against hers. Oh you poor, poor fool! LON [_throwing his glass straight at the ghost_]. You lyin' pup! GHOST [_bursting into a gale of eerie laughter_]. Ha! ha! ha! you _poor_ fool! _Now_ you believe in me! [_Lon whips out his revolver and aims at the ghost, then slowly returns it to the holster, as he realizes the futility of the move._] GHOST. Go on, my boy! Let's have another one here. [_He points to the dark hole in his forehead._] [_Lon, wiping his own face with the back of his hand, and shuddering, slumps down into his seat and stares vacantly at the table._] GHOST. Another one, just like the last--for your friend and pardner. [_He stresses the words with intense irony._] Do you remember the _last_ time you pulled that trick? What a foxy one it was! How astutely planned! _Planned_, my friend. I remember when we two went up the canyon together, just such a shining night as this, I asked you why you had borrowed--the Other Man's horse, and you said, yours was a little lame. Oh! excellent dissembler! Most crafty of liars! You _stole_ that horse. You stole that horse to put a rope around the Other Man's neck! You knew the pinto was shod different from any pony in those parts. You knew where they'd track him to, when they found the job you'd done. Then we sat down to smokes and cards. And I remember the curious glitter in your eyes. I was dealing. [_The Ghost shuffles the cards on the table, then lays down the pack in front of Lon._] Cut! [_Lon mechanically obeys._]