It had not taken long, after his triumphant homecoming, for Rimrock to wreck his own happiness. That old rift between them, regarding the law, had been opened the very first day; and it was not a difference that could be explained and adjusted, for neither would concede they were wrong. As the daughter of a judge, conservatively brought up in a community where an outlaw was abhorred, Mary Fortune could no more agree to his program than he could agree to hers. She respected the law and she turned to the law, instinctively, to right every wrong; but he from sad experience knew what a broken reed it was, compared to his gun and his good right hand. The return to Gunsight was a gloomy affair, but nothing was said of the Old Juan. Abercrombie Jepson guessed, and rightly, that his company was not desired; and they who had set out with the joy of lovers rode back absent-minded and distrait. But the question of the Old Juan was a vital problem, involving other interests beside theirs, and in the morning there was a telegram from Whitney H. Stoddard requesting that the matter be cleared up. Rimrock read it in the office where Mary sat at work and threw it carelessly down on her desk. "Well, it's come to a showdown," he said as she glanced at it. "The question is--who's running this mine?" "And the answer?" she enquired in that impersonal way she had; and Rimrock started as he sensed the subtle challenge. "Why--we are!" he said bluffly. "You and me, of course. You wouldn't quit me on a proposition like this?" "Yes, I think I would," she answered unhesitatingly. "I think Mr. Stoddard is right. That claim should be located in such a manner as to guarantee that it won't be jumped." "Uh! You think so, eh? Well, what do you know about it? Can't you take my word for anything?" "Why, yes, I can. In most matters at the mine I think you're entitled to have your way. But if you elect me as a Director in this coming stockholders' meeting and this question comes before the Board, unless you can make me see it differently I'm likely to vote against you." Rimrock shoved his big hat to the back of his head and stood gazing at her fixedly. "Well, if that's the case," he suggested at last, and then stopped as she caught his meaning. "Very well," she said, "it isn't too late. You can get you another dummy." "Will you vote for him?" demanded Rimrock, after an instant's thought, and she nodded her head in assent.