The Texan nodded: "She is, an'," he indicated Endicott with a nod of his head, "there's her husband over there shaking hands with Cass, an' he's just as fine as she is—they're real folks, girl—but, never mind them. What I want to know is—will you marry me tomorrow, dear?"
"Tomorrow!"
"Might's well be tomorrow as next week—or next month! Come on—please! You can't get away from me, so you might as well. An' besides here I am, shot in the leg an' if you don't give me my own way I'm likely to run a fever, an' have to get it cut off—so it's up to you, sweetheart—a one-legged man a month from now, or a two-legged one tomorrow. Which?"
The girl bent very close: "I—I think I'd rather have a two-legged one—darling." And the next instant the man's arms were about her and her lips were crushed to his.
"Say, Cass," whispered Bill Harlow, with an eye on the girl who was bending over the wounded man. "I never shot at Purdy—I got that damned skunk down there in the rocks that shot Tex."
"Me, too," chimed in Old Bat.
"I shot at him, too," said Endicott.
"Hell!" answered Grimshaw, with a wink, "so did I—but, don't never let her know."
There was a moment of silence which was broken by Endicott, who stepped forward and grasped the speaker's hand. "I am proud to be admitted to the friendship of Cass Grimshaw, horse-thief, and—gentleman," he said, and turned away to see the Texan looking at him with a twinkle in his eye.