Diggs turned about and whistled, and a man showed himself at the mouth of the pass.
“The capt’in,” cried Diggs. “Say Old Pegs wants ter see him.”
The man disappeared, and ten minutes later a man rode out of the pass, at the sight of whom Old Pegs loosened his revolver in his belt, while an ominous look passed over his face. It was Rafe Norris, clad in a half-Indian garb, with a plumed head-dress flaunting the eagle-feather of a chief. It was a strangely picturesque garb, and he looked noble in it, wicked man as he was. There was a look of reckless daring on his face as he dashed up.
“Ho, Old Pegs,” he said. “My worthy father-in-law that is to be, I greet you. To what may I ascribe the honor of this meeting?”
“Don’t chaff any more then you kin help, Rafe, acause I ain’t in the right temper ter b’ar it. You lying skunk, whar is my gal, Myrtle?”
“Safe enough, my dear sir, safe enough,” replied Rafe. “I have come to the conclusion that you are not the right person to take charge of a beautiful girl like Myrtle, and so I have taken her off your hands. You ought to be thankful for it.”
“I want that gal, Rafe Norris.”
“So do I!” replied Norris, calmly. “Let us understand one another, my good old friend. I love that girl and intend to make her my wife. I love her so well that nothing earthly, past, present or to come, can turn me from my purpose. The fear of death, all that any enemy can do, weigh as feathers in the balance against my love for her, and I will not give her up. I have another reason, too, which I will not tell you now.”
“You’d ruther die, eh?” cried Old Pegs, in a tone of deadly fury. “Then stand out thar like a man, take yer rifle and fight it out.”
“Thanks,” replied Rafe. “I’d much prefer not to do that. But, don’t you want to see your child?”