She begged he would not interrupt his interesting story.
Hays looked relieved.
"Well, I reckon I won't call her, for what I was goin' to say ain't exackly the sort o' thin' for an innocent, simple sort o' thing like her to hear--I mean," he interrupted himself hastily--"that folks of more experience of the world like you and me don't mind speakin' of--I'm sorter takin' it for granted that you're a married woman, ma'am." The lady, who had regarded him with a sudden rigidity, here relaxed her expression and nodded.
"Well," continued Hays, resuming his place by the fire, "you see this yer man I was goin' to see lives about four miles beyond the summit on a ranch that furnishes most of the hay for the stock that side of the Divide.

He's bin holdin' off his next year's contracts with me, hopin' to make better terms from the prospects of a late spring and higher prices.

He held his head mighty high and talked big of waitin' his own time.

I happened to know he couldn't do it." He put his hands on his knees and stared at the fire, and then went on:-- "Ye see this man had had crosses and family trials.

He had a wife that left him to jine a lot of bally dancers and painted women in the 'Frisco playhouses when he was livin' in the southern country.