The simple preparations were made swiftly. Two raw-hide lariats were properly adjusted. The prisoners looked on with the stoical indifference of Red Indians. It might have been said of the pair that neither had known how to live, but each knew how to die.
"Ready?" said the 'Piker.'
"Hold on!" replied a high-pitched voice.
The crowd turned to behold Mintie. She had crawled up silently and stealthily. But now she stood upright, her small head thrown back, her eyes glittering in the moonlight.
"Got a rope fer me?" she asked. "I've heard everything."
Nobody answered. The girl laughed; then she said slowly--
"I shot Jake Farge--with this."
She threw a small revolver at the 'Piker,' who picked it up. "I killed him at five this afternoon. I knew that if I didn't do it Pap would, and that you'd hang him. Jake came after me agen an' agen, an' each time I warned him. To-day he came fer the last time. He was half- crazy, and I had to kill the beast to save myself. I did it, and"-- she looked steadfastly at Smoky Jack--"I ain't ashamed of it, neither. There's only one man in all the world can make love to me. I never knowed that I keered for him till to-night."
She pointed at Smoky, who remarked deprecatingly--
"I allus allowed you was a daughter o' the Golden West."