He paid no attention to the food.
"Now," she said, resting both hands on the table and leaning so that she could look him directly in the eye: "What's Bard done now?
Horse--gun-fighter--woman; which ?" The other loosened the bandanna which circled his bull neck.
"Woman," he said hoarsely, and the blood swelled his throat and face with veins of purple.
"Ah-h-h," drawled the girl, and straightening, she dropped both hands on her hips.

It was a struggle, but she managed to summon another smile.
"Wife--sister--sweetheart ?" The man stared dubiously on her, and Sally, mother to five hundred wild rangers, knew the symptoms of a man eager for a confidant.

She slipped into the opposite chair.
"It might be any of the three," she went on gently, "and I know because I've seen him work." "Damn his soul!" growled the other by way of a prefix to his story.

"It ain't any of the three with me.

This Bard--maybe he tried his hand with you ?" Whether it was rage or scorn that made her start and redden he could not tell.
"Me ?" she repeated.