"One moment," he said, with an exasperating patience, "you say I stole her. To have stolen her suggests that she was not willing to come along. She came with me. Well, I guess she came because she fancied it. You say you're going to take her back. Well," with a shrug, "I kind of think she'll have something to say about going back." For a moment Scipio stood aghast. He glanced about him helplessly. Then, in a flash, his pale-blue eyes came back to the other's face. "She's mine, I tell you! Mine! Mine! Mine!" he cried, in a frenzy of rage and despair. "She's mine by the laws of God an' man. She's mine by the love that has brought our kiddies into the world. Do you hear? She's mine by every tie that can hold man and wife together. An' you've stole her. She's all I've got. She's all I want. She's just part of me, and I can't live without her. Ther's the kiddies to home waitin' for her, and she's theirs, same as they are hers--and mine. I tell you, you ain't going to keep her. She's got to come back." He drew a deep breath to choke down his fury. "Say," he went on, with a sudden moderating of his tone and his manner, taking on a pitiful pleading, "do you think you love her? You? Do you think you know what love is? You don't. You can't. You can't love her same as I do. I love her honest. I love her so I want to work for her till I drop. I love her so there's nothin' on earth I wouldn't do for her. My life is hers. All that's me is hers. I ain't got a thought without her. Man, you don't know what it is to love my Jessie. You can't, 'cos your love's not honest. You've taken her same as you'd take any woman for your pleasure. If I was dead, would you marry her? No, never, never, never. She's a pastime to you, and when you've done with her you'd turn her right out on this prairie to herd with the cattle, if ther' wasn't anywher' else for her to go." Then his voice suddenly rose and his fury supervened again. "God!" he cried fiercely. "Give me back my wife. You're a thief. Give her back to me, I say. She's mine, d'you understand--mine!" Not for an instant did the smile on James' face relax. Maybe it became more set, and his lips, perhaps, tightened, but the smile was there, hard, unyielding in its very setness. And when Scipio's appeal came to an end he spoke with an underlying harshness that did not carry its way to the little man's distracted brain. "She wouldn't go back to you, even if I let her--which I won't," he said coldly. The man's words seemed to bite right into the heart of his hearer. Nothing could have been better calculated to goad him to extremity. In one short, harsh sentence he had dashed every hope that the other possessed. And with a rush the stricken man leapt at denial, which was heartrending in its impotence. "You lie!" he shouted. The old revolver was dragged from his pocket and pointed shakingly at his tormentor's head. "Give her back to me! Give her back, or--"