“You’re right, Girl.”

The next instant he had passed out of the door which she held wide open for him.

“That’s the end o’ that—­that’s the end o’ that,” she wound up, slamming the door after him.  But all the way from the threshold to the bureau she kept murmuring to herself:  “I don’t care, I don’t care . . .  I’ll be like the rest o’ the women I’ve seen.  I’ll give that Nina Micheltorena cards an’ spades.  There’ll be another hussy around here.  There’ll be—­” The threat was never finished.  Instead, with eyes that fairly started out of their sockets, she listened to the sound of a couple of shots, the last one exploding so loud and distinct that there was no mistaking its nearness to the cabin.

“They’ve got ’im!” she cried.  “Well, I don’t care—­I don’t—­” But again she did not finish what she intended to say.  For at the sound of a heavy body falling against the cabin door she flew to it, opened it and, throwing her arms about the sorely-wounded man, dragged him into the cabin and placed him in a chair.  Quick as lightning she was back at the door bolting it.

With his eyes Johnson followed her action.

“Don’t lock that door—­I’m going out again—­out there.  Don’t bar that door,” he commanded feebly, struggling to his feet and attempting to walk towards it; but he lurched forward and would have fallen to the floor had she not caught him.  Vainly he strove to break away from her, all the time crying out:  “Don’t you see, don’t you see, Girl—­open the door.”  And then again with almost a sob:  “Do you think me a man to hide behind a woman?” He would have collapsed except for the strong arms that held him.

“I love you an’ I’m goin’ to save you,” the Girl murmured while struggling with him.  “You asked me to go away with you; I will when you git out o’ this.  If you can’t save your own soul—­” She stopped and quickly went over to the mantel where she took down a bottle of whisky and a glass; but in the act of pouring out a drink for him there came a loud rap on the window, and quickly looking round she saw Rance’s piercing eyes peering into the room.  For an instant she paled, but then there flashed through her mind the comforting thought that the Sheriff could not possibly see Johnson from his position.  So, after giving the latter his drink, she waited quietly until a rap at the door told her that Rance had left the window when, her eye having lit on the ladder that was held in place on the ceiling, she quickly ran over to it and let it down, saying: 

“Go up the ladder!  Climb up there to the loft You’re the man that’s got my first kiss an’ I’m goin’ to save you . . .”

“Oh, no, not here,” protested Johnson, stubbornly.

“Do you want them to see you in my cabin?” she cried reproachfully, trying to lift him to his feet.

“Oh, hurry, hurry . . .!”

With the utmost difficulty Johnson rose to his feet and catching the rounds of the ladder he began to ascend.  But after going up a few rounds he reeled and almost fell off, gasping: