The man shook his head: "Not onless some of 'em don't get out of the road. Might knock down a few with the horse, but that won't hurt 'em to speak of. It wouldn't pain me none to knock that marshal about half ways down the street—not for anything he's done to me, but because I've got a hunch he talked pretty rough to you."
"Oh, I hope it's all right," whispered the girl, "do you really think it will work?"
"Work! Of course it'll work! I've got it all pictured out right now. It's a peach! Just you get off to one side far enough so's not to get caught in the rush, an' you'll see some fun. Tell Ike not to forget to put up an awful howl about losin' his cayuse, just to make the play good."
"Do you think he's really sincere—that it isn't just a trick to get you out where they can shoot you? How long have you known this Ike Stork?"
"Dead sure." The Texan's tone was reassuring, "known him a good half-hour. You ought to seen those eyes of his when he thought I was goin' to shoot him—never flinched a hair. He's a good man, told me to hurry up an' make a job of it."
The girl held out her hand: "Good-bye, Tex—till day after tomorrow."
The cowboy took the hand and pressed it fiercely: "You're goin' to be there, too? That'll make it harder—but—all right."
"Remember," smiled the girl, "what I said about there being loads of other girls."
"Too bad you hadn't been born in the West, so Win would never known you—then—maybe——"
"What shall I tell our friend the marshal?" interrupted the girl.