"I been telling you she was better'n two common men. She was. Which means she was equal to about ten ordinary girls. There's still a legend about how beautiful Joan Piotto was--tall and straight and big black eyes and terrible handy with her gun. She could ride anything that walked and she didn't know what fear meant. "These two kids seen her. One of 'em was William Drew; one of 'em was John Bard." He turned to Anthony and saw that the latter was stern of face. He had surely scored his point. "Same name as yours, eh?" he asked, to explain his turning. "It's a common enough name," murmured Bard. "Well, them two had come out to be partners, and there they was, fallin' in love with the same girl. So when they got free they put their heads together--bein' uncommon wise kids--and figured it out this way. Neither of 'em had a chance workin' alone to get Joan way from her father's gang, but workin' together they might have a ghost of a show. So they decided to stay on the trail of Piotto till they got Joan. Then they'd give her a choice between the two of 'em and the one that lost would simply back off the boards. "They done what they agreed. For six months they stuck on the trail of old Piotto and never got in hailin' distance of him. Then they come on the gang while they were restin' up in the house of a squatter. "That was a pretty night. Drew and Bard went through that gang. It sounds like a nice fairy-story, all right, but I know old fellers who'll swear it's true. They killed three of the men with their guns; they knifed another one, an' they killed Riley with their bare hands. It wasn't no pretty sight to see--the inside of that house. And last of all they got Piotto, fightin' like an old wildcat, into a corner with his daughter; and William Drew, he took Piotto into his arms and busted his back. That don't sound possible, but when you see Drew you'll know how it was done. "The girl, she'd been knocked cold before this happened. So while Bard and Drew sat together bindin' up each other's wounds--because they was shot pretty near to pieces--they talked it over and they seen pretty clear that the girl would never marry the man that had killed her father. Of course, old Bill Drew, he'd done the killing, but that wasn't any reason why he had to take the blame. "They made up their minds that right there and then with the dead men lyin' all around 'em, they'd match coins to see which one would take the blame of havin' killed Piotto--meanin' that the other one would get the girl--if he could. "And Bard lost. So he had to take the credit of havin' killed old Piotto. I'd of give something to have seen the two of 'em sittin' there--oozin' blood--after that marchin' was decided. Because they tell me that Bard was as big as Drew and looked pretty much the same.