The girl broke into a peal of silvery laughter. A weight seemed suddenly to have been lifted from her heart--a weight that had borne heavier and heavier with the words of Cinnabar Joe. There was a chance that her Texan would prove to be the man she wanted him to be--the man she had pictured him during the long hours of the previous afternoon when alone in the cabin her thoughts had reverted again and again to the parting at the edge of the bad lands--the touch of his hand on her arm, the strong, firm grip of his fingers, and the strange rapturous something that had leaped from his eyes straight into her heart. But, all that was before she had known of--the other woman. The laughter died from her lips, and her eyes narrowed slightly. Cinnabar Joe was speaking: "An' I suppose you've be'n talkin' about Tex Benton. She told Jennie he was on Purdy's trail." "How did she know?" "Search me. Jest naturally know'd that if he wasn't dead, that's what he'd be doin', I guess. How'd Purdy git holt of her, anyway?" "This woman and Tex were washed ashore when the ferry broke its cable, and while Tex was trying to get some horses, Purdy came along and found her." "Where's the pilgrim?" Janet shrugged: "Oh, he don't count. He's merely the wronged husband." Cinnabar looked straight into her eyes: "Know Tex?" he asked, drily. "I've seen him. He borrowed Blue, and he spent last night at the ranch." "Well, then, believe me, you've seen some man! An' don't you go makin' no more mistakes like you jest made. If them two was together they had a right to be. An' they'll come clean with a good reason. They's some things a _man_ won't do--an' runnin' off with another man's wife is one of 'em." "Do you know him?" There was more than a trace of eagerness in the girl's voice. "I'll say I know him! An' I'm tellin' it to you, sister, if he's on Purdy's trail, I'd rather be in hell with my back broke than be in Purdy's shoes right now." The girl turned abruptly and walked toward the house, and as Cinnabar followed her with his eyes, he smiled: "If them two could only hit it out--she'd make a fine woman fer him. By Gosh! With a woman like that to kind of steady him down, Tex could be a big man in these parts--he's got the guts, an' he's got the aggucation, an' so's she. I misdoubt he'd marry into no sheep outfit though, at that." CHAPTER XXVI THE OTHER WOMAN At the door of the cabin Jennie greeted her caller effusively. Alice Endicott, who had insisted upon dressing, had finished her breakfast and was sitting propped up among the pillows on the bed. "This is Janet McWhorter, our neighbour," introduced Jennie, taking the girl by the hand and leading her to the side of the bed, "an' this is Mrs.--Mrs.--why, do you know I can't call your married name to save me. I never seen yer husban'--an' he's always spoke of in these parts as 'the pilgrim.'"