“I ain’t got my gun on me!” wheezed Joel, to his partner, as a final drive of his heel smashed the rattlesnake’s evil, arrow-shaped head. “But if you kick that dog ag’in, I swear t’ Gawd I’ll go in an’ git it, an’ blow your mangy face off! I seen the hull thing. This gal of your’n was jes’ a-goin’ to plant her foot in the tumbleweed, when I seen this rattler h’ist up his dirty head an’ bend it back to strike her ankle. Trevy seen it, too. An’ he pushed her out’n death’s way, when there wa’n’t neither one of us humans near enough nor quick enough to. An’ you kicked him fer savin’ her! Lord! Kicked--kicked--_Trevy_!” He had left the slain snake and was hustling across to the dog. Treve had gotten gaspingly to his feet. No whimper had been wrung from him by the anguishing pain of the kick in his tender short-ribs. No snarl nor other sign of wrath had shown resentment at this brutality--a brutality for which any human stranger would have been attacked by him right murderously. Instead, the great dog stood stock-still in the road, his glorious coat dust-smeared, his mighty body a-tremble. His soft eyes were fixed on the man who had kicked him--the man who had been his god--the man whose sweetheart the collie had risked his own life to save. This was the man to whom he had given loyal and worshipful service since long before he could remember. And now his god had turned on him;--had not punished him, for punishment implies earlier fault; but had half-killed him for no fault at all. The deepset dark eyes were terrible in their heartbreak. Royce Mack, blinking stupidly, felt their look sear into him. Slowly he stared from the stricken dog to the dead snake. Then his eyes fell upon Reine Houston. At sight of the snake, and at comprehension of what Treve had averted from her by that wild leap, Reine collapsed, blubbering and quaking, on the running-board of the car. Drawn by supreme impulse, Royce turned his back on the collie and hurried over to her. Treve was forgotten. With babbled love words Mack sought to reassure and comfort the girl and to learn if she were badly hurt. In this tender employment he was interrupted by Joel Fenno’s rasping voice. The old man had been examining Treve, with the tender touch of a nurse, and crooning softly to the hurt collie. Now he turned grimly on his partner. “Best boost your young lady into the car,” he snarled, “an’ trundle her back to Ova. She ain’t li’ble to have much ap’tite left, after what’s happened. Besides, Sing Lee’s salaraytus biscuits ain’t no good example for a new-mown bride to take to heart for future use. More’n that, she’s met me. That’s what she come here for, wa’n’t it? She’s met me. Likewise, she’s saw me dance. She’s met Treve ag’n, too. Met him reel sudden an’ personal. That’s why she’s still alive. S’pose you traipse back to Ova with her; an’ leave me an’ Trevy to ourselves. We kind of need to be left thataway. If you don’t mind. So long!”