"Well, you see I had a row with him in Willcox the last time I was in there," Glendon replied glibly, then hurried to add, "Now, see here, Katherine, you've got a chance to help me, and no one else can do it. Will you stand by me? I swear that if I get out of this trouble you will have no further cause to reproach me. I have done a few decent things since I married you. Not many, but can't you remember that I let you keep Donnie instead of sending him to father, as I had a legal right to do?" "Yes, Jim! I will never forget it! But even without that, I would do my utmost to help you, because you are the father of my boy." "You're a brick, Katherine! Now, see here, I want you to circulate a petition for my pardon, after the first excitement has died down and I have shown myself a model prisoner. You will have to get a certain number of names, as the petition has to go to Washington, because it was a Federal case. The Governor of the Territory has no jurisdiction over it. You won't refuse to do this for me, will you? Every one is against me now, and if you fail me, I shall take advantage of the first opportunity to kill myself." "Jim, have I ever failed you yet?" she asked simply. "No; you've been a long way too good for me," he answered, "and if I can get this squared, I'll show you how I appreciate you and what you have done." Despite his promises, she left the jail with a heavy heart, knowing his weak and vacillating character, and feeling that his protestations were not to be reckoned seriously. But, she also knew that when the time came, she would help in any way she was able. So husband and wife parted, and the woman returned to the Circle Cross ranch the following day. Juan and Tatters met her with delight. The old Mexican hovered about her in dumb sympathy. A letter from Donnie was full of his childish interests. The touch of the badly scrawled pages comforted her as though the child's hands were laid on her own. A feeling of thanksgiving surged over her, that the boy was away where no knowledge of the shadow in their home could cloud his eyes. When the Mexican stood in the door of the kitchen, saying in his liquid, native tongue, "Buenos noches, Senora" (Good night), she remembered that she could not keep the man, there was so little money left now. Gently she explained the situation to Juan. The bewildered expression on his face suddenly changed to eagerness. "Senora, I have saved up money. Eet is for both of us. Some day--manana--you pay me back." "I cannot use your money, Juan." Her voice told how the offer touched her. "I must look out for the cattle myself, there is not enough to pay you wages." "You have frijoles, no?" demanded Juan. "Eet is enough. I stay!"