"On'y a jerk er two an' the gal's yours, Jack. It ain't your shout. I takes the responsibeelity. You-alls has no need to take a hand. He's my beef. Lope up the trail a hoss-length or two, Jack, an' the gal's free." Thus the cowboy tempted cunningly.
The blood rushed to the rover's face at the very thought. For a second a mighty temptation to let events take their course assailed him, and then, with a sinking misery in his heart, he regained his manhood.
"No, Broncho, no!" he jerked hoarsely.
"Think o' the hell you-alls is condemnin' the poor gal to! Think of her draggin' along her life-trail on the rope o' that hoss-thief," went on the tempter. "I allows you ain't the right to sp'ile her life this way."
The others watched the pair, waiting on the result with beating hearts. Would the cowboy's eloquence prevail? Would he after all be allowed to carry out his dreadful project? A word from Jack and the execution would continue. Every one realised the deadly temptation the cunning Broncho was so insidiously putting before his friend. Would the rover give in? Had he the right to spoil another life as well as his own? No one dared to answer the question.
Suddenly Loyola threw her head back, and going to the hideously tempted man, put her hand mutely into his, with a tender look of perfect confidence.
Jack caught the look, and knew that she was telling him that she would abide by his decision, whichever way it went. She trusted him, trusted him absolutely—that was what her eyes said—to do that which was right.
"What do you say?" asked Broncho, with an air of finality. "Shall I turn him loose an' bog the gal's happiness in an everlastin' quicksand, so as when the years o' hell an' misery pile up she comes to hate you an' your high-falutin' moralities worse'n him?"
"My God, Lolie, you won't? Oh, say you won't!" groaned poor Jack.
"Never!" whispered the girl, a smile of the supremest courage upon her face.