As the horse-thief stood looking down upon her heaving shoulders the puzzled look in his eyes gave place to a decided twinkle, which an instant later changed to a look of mild reproach: "Say, sis, who do you think you be? Claimin' _you_ killed Purdy! Why, there ain't no more chance you killed him, than there is that I didn't." He extended his hand in which an automatic pistol of large calibre lay flat in the palm. "This here gun shoots jest twict as swift as yours. Agin your eight hundred feet of muzzle v'losity, I've got almost two thousan'--an' I'd got in two shots before you begun! Then, too, if you'll take a look around, you'll see that some other folks has got pretty fair claim on him. Take Bill here, his 30-40 rifle shoots half-agin as swift as my automatic--an' he begun shootin' when I did. An' look at the breed, yonder, stickin' fresh shells in his gun. I bet that bird never missed--an' he shot jest a hair before I did. An' the pilgrim he shot, too--but I wouldn't bet on him--he might of missed--but the rest of us didn't. An' I ain't sayin' you _missed_, mind you. 'Cause I think you got him every crack out of the box. But he was dead 'fore you started shootin'. Yup--what you done was to pump about a quart of lead into a dead man, 'fore he could hit the ground--an', believe me--that's _shootin'_! But the killin' part--that goes to the fastest guns." The girl's eyes lighted: "Oh, I--I'm glad I haven't got that on my conscience. I'd hate to think that I had killed--even him." The next instant she was gone, and they watched her as she bent low over the Texan, who had struggled to his elbow. "Janet--darling," he whispered, "do you know--about--_her_?" The girl blushed furiously at the words, and the blue-black eyes shone like twin stars. "Yes," she breathed, "I know. She's at Cinnabar Joe's--and she told me all about it. And, Tex, I think she's fine!" The Texan nodded: "She is, an'," he indicated Endicott with a nod of his head, "there's her husband over there shaking hands with Cass, an' he's just as fine as she is--they're real folks, girl--but, never mind them. What I want to know is--will you marry me tomorrow, dear?" "Tomorrow!" "Might's well be tomorrow as next week--or next month! Come on--please! You can't get away from me, so you might as well. An' besides here I am, shot in the leg an' if you don't give me my own way I'm likely to run a fever, an' have to get it cut off--so it's up to you, sweetheart--a one-legged man a month from now, or a two-legged one tomorrow. Which?" The girl bent very close: "I--I think I'd rather have a two-legged one--darling." And the next instant the man's arms were about her and her lips were crushed to his. "Say, Cass," whispered Bill Harlow, with an eye on the girl who was bending over the wounded man. "I never shot at Purdy--I got that damned skunk down there in the rocks that shot Tex." "Me, too," chimed in Old Bat. "I shot at him, too," said Endicott.