A swift, almost instantaneous, change swept over her sensitive face and then she closed down her lips; yet Rimrock was quick enough to see it. "What's the matter?" he challenged. "What's the matter with L. W.? Ain't he stood by me like a rock? He's in the hospital right now with a busted arm, and I won't hear a word against him. No, my troubles have been with women." A swifter spasm, almost ugly in its rage, came over Mary Fortune's lips; and then she shut them down again. "Yes," she said with a sarcastic smile, "I've heard women say the same about men." "Oh, you've always got some come-back," he went on blusteringly, "but I notice you don't say nothing against L. W. Now there was a man who had done me dirt--he sold me out, on the Gunsight--but when I trusted him and treated him white L. W. became my best friend. He stood right up with me against Andy McBain and that bunch of hired gun-fighters he had; and he'd lay down his life for me, to-morrow. And yet he just worships money! He thinks more of a dollar than I do of a million, but could Stoddard buy him out? Not on your life--he voted for the dividend! But where was my lady friend at?" He glared at her insultingly and, torn by that great passion that comes from devotion misprized and sacrifice rewarded with scorn, she leapt up to hurl back the truth. But a vision rose before her, the picture of L. W. sobbing and bleeding, his arm flapping beside him, striving vainly to retrieve his treachery; and the words did not pass her lips. "_I'm_ not your friend, if that's what you mean," she answered with withering scorn. "I'm against you, from this moment, on." "Well, let it ride, then," he responded carelessly, and as she swept from the room, he smiled. CHAPTER XVIII THE SHOW-DOWN For the few brief weeks before the great trial the office was swarming with men. There were high-priced lawyers and geologists of renown and experts on every phase of the suit, and in the midst of them sat Rimrock Jones. He wore his big black hat that had cost him a hundred dollars--including the hat-check tips at the Waldorf--and his pistol was always at his hip. Every step of their case was carefully framed up in the long councils that took place, but at the end Rimrock lost his nerve. For the first time in his life, and with all eyes upon him, he weakened and lowered his proud head. He had a hunch he would lose.