“We’ve been fighting the dust storm for two days, and we’ve got to have grub and some real water, quick.”

The man regarded him with slow insolence:  “The hell ye hev,” he drawled; “Timber City’s only seven mile, ef ye was acrost the river.  I hain’t runnin’ no hotel, an’ grub-liners hain’t welcome.”

“God, man!  You don’t mean——­”

“I mean, ef ye got five dollars on ye I’ll ferry ye acrost to where ye c’n ride to Timber City ef them old skates’ll carry ye there, an’ ef ye hain’t got the five, ye c’n swim acrost, or shove on up the river, or go back where ye come from.”

Endicott took one swift step forward, his right fist shot into the man’s stomach, and as he doubled forward with a grunt of pain, Endicott’s left crashed against the point of his jaw with a force that sent him spinning like a top as he crumpled to the hard-trodden earth of the door-yard.

“Good!” cried Alice.  “It was beautifully done.  He didn’t even have a chance to shoot,” she pointed to the two 45’s that hung, one at either hip.

“I guess we’ll just relieve him of those,” said Endicott, and, jerking the revolvers from their holsters, walked to his saddle and uncoiled the rope.  Alice lent eager assistance, and a few moments later the inhospitable one lay trussed hand and foot.  “Now, we’ll go in and find something to eat,” said Endicott, as he made fast the final hitch.

The cabin was well stocked with provisions and, to the surprise of the two, was reasonably clean.  While Alice busied herself in the cabin, Endicott unsaddled the horses and turned them into a small field where the vegetation grew rank and high and green beside a series of irrigation ditches.  Passing the horse corral he saw that three or four saddle-horses dozed in the shade of its pole fence, and continued on to the river bank where he inspected minutely the ferry.

“I guess we can manage to cross the river,” he told Alice, when he returned to the cabin; “I will breathe easier when I see you safe in Timber City, wherever that is.  I am coming back after Tex.  But first I must see you safe.”

The girl crossed to his side and as the man glanced into her face he saw that her eyes were shining with a new light—­a light he had dreamed could shine from those eyes, but never dared hope to see.  “No, Win,” she answered softly, and despite the mighty pounding of his heart the man realized it was the first time she had used that name.  “You are not going back alone.  I am going too.”  Endicott made a gesture of protest but she gave no heed.  “From now on my place is with you.  Oh, Win, can’t you see!  I—­I guess I have always loved you—­only I didn’t know It.  I wanted romance—­wanted a red-blood man—­a man who could do things, and——­”

“Oh, if I could come to you clean-handed!” he interrupted, passionately; “if I could offer you a hand unstained by the blood of a fellow creature!”