"Curly," says he, "what am I going to do? What's right to do? I hadn't much to give up, but such as it was I give it up gladly for her; I'd give up everything in the world--if I had everything--for her. That's what she means to me," says he. "We are so much to one another that I haven't any time to be scared of you. We haven't got around to that yet--not that I'm so cheap as to believe you're bluffing; I know you're not." "No, I ain't," says I. "This thing has got to be squared and I come out here to square it. I know your record--I've heard you talk to more'n one woman. You've got a cast iron nerve," says I; "but it won't do you no good. Drive right on now till I tell you to stop." "If you want to kill her too," says he, "all right--then shoot me down. Ride on out then and explain to her what you've done. Look at her face the way it will be then. Maybe you can tell then whether she cares anything for me or not. Do you want to see a woman's face looking thataway--see it all your life? And do you think you can square things or end things by killing me or her, or both of us? Maybe you'd murder more--who knows? We're man and wife. Would that square things, Curly? I don't know much myself, but I don't seem to think it would." It was curious, but it seemed like it was true--he didn't seem to have got around to thinking of whether he was in danger or not. And I knowed he wasn't running any cheap bluff, neither, any more than me. He looked right on ahead and didn't pay no attention to my gun. "Curly," says he, "you didn't make this and you can't end it. This is a case of man and woman, the way God made them. 'Male and female made He them.' If I died today--if she did too--I'd thank God that we had gone this far anyways together. "Why," says he, going on like he was half talking to hisself, "I didn't believe in anything much--I was a atheist and a socialist--till I saw her. I couldn't see anything much worth while in the world--till I saw her. I didn't want to do or be anything much--till I saw her. And now, I see it all--everything! I see how much worth while the world is, and how much worth while she is and I am, and how much worth while other people are too. I just didn't know it before--till I saw her. Then I knew what life was all about. Do you think you can settle this now, or help it, Curly? No; it's too late." We drove on quite a little way yet. "Curly," says he at last, "I've made my talk. If any man says I married Bonnie Bell for anything but love--the best and cleanest of love--he's making the cruelest mistake in the world; and he's a damned liar too. You ask her, Curly." "What's that?" says I. "Me ask her? I didn't come for that. I couldn't look at her. That girl can get my goat any station. I don't want to talk to her." "But you wouldn't of lynched a cow thief on the range in the old days on such a showing as this." "Thief?" says I to him. "She said she was a thief--she'd stole the life and happiness of her pa and others----"