“I’m stuck on you.” The Girl’s lips parted a little mockingly. “Thank you.” Rance puffed away for a moment or two in silence, and then with sudden determination he went on: “I’m going to marry you.” “Think so?” questioned the Girl, drawing herself up proudly. And while Rance proceeded to relight his cigar, it having gone out, she plumped both elbows on the bar and looked him straight in the eye, and announced: “They ain’t a man here goin’ to marry me.” The scene had precisely the appearance of a struggle between two powerful wills. How long they would have remained with elbows almost touching and looking into each other’s eyes it is difficult to determine; but an interruption came in the person of the barkeeper, who darted in, calling: “One good cigar!” Instantly the Girl reached behind her for the box containing the choicest cigars, and handing one to Nick, she said: “Here’s your poison--three bits. Why look at ’em,” she went on in the next breath to Rance; “there’s Handsome with two wives I know of somewhere East. And--” She broke off short and ended with: “Nick, who’s that cigar for?” “Tommy,” he told her. “Here, give that back!” she cried quickly putting out her hand for it. “Tommy don’t know a good cigar when he’s smokin’ it.” And so saying she put the choice cigar back in its place among its fellows and handed him one from another box with the remark: “Same price, Nick.” Nick chuckled and went out. “An’ look at Trin with a widow in Sacramento. An’ you--” The Girl broke off short and laughed in his face. “Oh, not one o’ you travellin’ under your own name!” “One whisky!” ordered Nick, coming into the room with a rush. Without a word the Girl took down a bottle and poured it out for him while he stood quietly looking on, grinning from ear to ear. For Rance’s weakness was known to him as it was to every other man in Manzaneta County, and he believed that the Sheriff had taken advantage of his absence to press his hopeless suit. “Here you be!” sang out the Girl, and passed the glass over to him. “He wants it with water,” returned Nick, with a snicker. With a contemptuous gesture the Girl put the bottle back on the shelf. “No--no you don’t; no fancy drinks here!” she objected. “But he says he won’t take it without water,” protested Nick, though there was a twinkle in his eye. “He’s a fellow that’s jest rode in from The Crossin’, so he says.” The Girl folded her arms and declared in a tone of finality: “He’ll take it straight or git.” “But he won’t git,” contended Nick chuckling.