“But look at the moral question, Brace. Consider the example; the influence of such a shop, kept by such a woman, on the community! We have the right to protect ourselves--the majority.” “That's the way the lynchers talk,” returned Brace. “And I'm not so sure about there being any moral question yet. You are assuming too much. There is no reason why she shouldn't run the tienda as decently--barring the liquor sale, which, however, is legal, and for which she can get a license--as a man could, and without interfering with our morals.” “Then what is the use of our rules?” “They were made for those who consented to adopt them, as we all did. They still bind US, and if we don't choose to buy her liquor or cigars that will dispose of her and her tienda much more effectually than your protest. It's a pity she's a lone unprotected woman. Now if she only had a husband”-- “She carries a dagger in her garter.” This apparently irrelevant remark came from the man who had not yet spoken, but who had been listening with the languid unconcern of one who, relinquishing the labor of argument to others, had consented to abide by their decision. It was met with a scornful smile from each of the disputants, perhaps even by an added shrug of the shoulders from the woman's previous defender! HE was evidently not to be taken in by extraneous sentiment. Nevertheless, both listened as the speaker, slowly feeling his knees as if they were his way to a difficult subject, continued with the same suggestion of stating general fact, but waiving any argument himself. “Clarkson of Angels allows she's got a free, gaudy, picter-covered style with the boys, but that she can be gilt-edged when she wants to. Rowley Meade--him ez hed his skelp pulled over his eyes at one stroke, foolin' with a she bear over on Black Mountain--allows it would be rather monotonous in him attemptin' any familiarities with her. Bulstrode's brother, ez was in Marysville, said there was a woman--like to her, but not her--ez made it lively for the boys with a game called 'Little Monte,' and he dropped a hundred dollars there afore he came away. They do say that about seven men got shot in Marysville on account o' this one, or from some oneasiness that happened at her shop. But then,” he went on slowly and deferentially as the faces of the two others were lowered and became fixed, “SHE says she tired o' drunken rowdies,--there's a sameness about 'em, and it don't sell her pipes and cigars, and that's WHY she's coming here. Thompson over at Dry Creek sez that THAT'S where our reputation is playin' us! 'We've got her as a reward o' virtoo, and be d----d to us.' But,” cautiously, “Thompson ain't drawed a sober breath since Christmas.”