“You're hurting me,” she said next. Then a look of drowsy cunning filled her eyes, and she fixed them upon McLean's dogged face. “He's gone, Lin,” she murmured, raising her hand where Barker had disappeared. She knew McLean had heard her, and she held back on the quickened pace that he had set. “Leave me down. You hurt,” she pleaded, hanging on him. The cow-puncher put forth more strength. “Just the floor,” she pleaded again. “Just one minute on the floor. He'll think you could not keep me lifted.” Still McLean made no answer, but steadily led her round and round, as he had undertaken. “He's playing out!” she exclaimed. “You'll be played out soon.” She laughed herself half-awake. The man drew a breath, and she laughed more to feel his hand and arm strain to surmount her increasing resistance. “Jessamine!” she whispered to him. “Jessamine! Doc'll never suspicion you, Lin.” “Talk sense,” said he. “It's sense I'm talking. Leave me go to sleep. Ah, ah, I'm going! I'll go; you can't--” “Walk, walk!” he repeated. He looked at the door. An ache was numbing his arms. “Oh yes, walk! What can you and all your muscle--Ah, walk me to glory, then, craziness! I'm going; I'll go. I'm quitting this outfit for keeps. Lin, you're awful handsome to-night! I'll bet--I'll bet she has never seen you look so. Let me--let me watch yus. Anyway, she knows I came first!” He grasped her savagely. “First! You and twenty of yu' don't--God!! what do I talk to her for?” “Because--because--I'm going; I'll go. He slung me off--but he had to sling--you can't--stop--” Her head was rolling, while the lips smiled. Her words came through deeper and deeper veils, fearless, defiant, a challenge inarticulate, a continuous mutter. Again he looked at the door as he struggled to move with her dragging weight. The drops rolled on his forehead and neck, his shirt was wet, his hands slipped upon her ribbons. Suddenly the drugged body folded and sank with him, pulling him to his knees. While he took breath so, the mutter went on, and through the door came the jigging fiddle. A fire of desperation lighted in his eyes. “Buffalo Girls!” he shouted, hoarsely, in her ear, and got once more on his feet with her as though they were two partners in a quadrille. Still shouting her to wake, he struck a tottering sort of step, and so, with the bending load in his grip, strove feebly to dance the laudanum away. Feet stumbled across the porch, and Lusk was in the room. “So I've got you!” he said. He had no weapon, but made a dive under the bed and came up with a carbine. The two men locked, wrenching impotently, and fell together. The carbine's loud shot rang in the room, but did no harm; and McLean lay sick and panting upon Lusk as Barker rushed in.