Again Rance called to her over his shoulder: 

“I say, Girl!”

The Girl took up a glass and began to polish it.  At last she deigned to favour him with “Hm?” which, apparently, he did not hear, for again a silence fell upon them.  Finally, unable to bear the suspense any longer, the Sheriff threw down his cards on the table, and facing her he said: 

“Say, Girl, will you marry me?”

“Nope,” returned the Girl with a saucy toss of the head.

Rance rose and strode over to the bar.  Looking fixedly at her with his steely grey eyes he demanded the reason.

“’Cause you got a wife in Noo Orleans—­or so the mountain breezes say,” was her ready answer.

Rance gave no sign of having heard her.  Throwing away the cigar he was smoking he asked in the most nonchalant manner: 

“Give me some of them cigars—­my kind.”

Reaching for a box behind her the Girl placed it before him.

“Them’s your kind, Jack.”

From an inside pocket of his broadcloth coat Rance took out an elaborate cigar-case, filled it slowly, leaving out one cigar which he placed between his lips.  When he had this one going satisfactorily he rested both elbows on the edge of the bar, and said bluntly: 

“I’m stuck on you.”

The Girl’s lips parted a little mockingly.

“Thank you.”

Rance puffed away for a moment or two in silence, and then with sudden determination he went on: 

“I’m going to marry you.”

“Think so?” questioned the Girl, drawing herself up proudly.  And while Rance proceeded to relight his cigar, it having gone out, she plumped both elbows on the bar and looked him straight in the eye, and announced:  “They ain’t a man here goin’ to marry me.”

The scene had precisely the appearance of a struggle between two powerful wills.  How long they would have remained with elbows almost touching and looking into each other’s eyes it is difficult to determine; but an interruption came in the person of the barkeeper, who darted in, calling:  “One good cigar!”

Instantly the Girl reached behind her for the box containing the choicest cigars, and handing one to Nick, she said: 

“Here’s your poison—­three bits.  Why look at ’em,” she went on in the next breath to Rance; “there’s Handsome with two wives I know of somewhere East.  And—­” She broke off short and ended with:  “Nick, who’s that cigar for?”

“Tommy,” he told her.

“Here, give that back!” she cried quickly putting out her hand for it.  “Tommy don’t know a good cigar when he’s smokin’ it.”  And so saying she put the choice cigar back in its place among its fellows and handed him one from another box with the remark:  “Same price, Nick.”

Nick chuckled and went out.

“An’ look at Trin with a widow in Sacramento.  An’ you—­” The Girl broke off short and laughed in his face.  “Oh, not one o’ you travellin’ under your own name!”