Harley was pale; life was sweet, never sweeter than when it seemed to be leaving, but he did not flinch.
"You have stolen her from me," said the "King." "I saw what you did there; you ought to be willing to pay the price."
"I object to the word 'stolen,'" said Harley, calmly. "The love of Sylvia Morgan is not a thing that could be stolen by anybody."
"Words differ, but acts don't. I've been a border man, and I've got to do things in the border way."
"One of which is to come armed upon an unarmed man?"
Harley saw the "King" flinch, but the finger did not leave the trigger.
"You took from me when I wasn't looking all that I love best, and I'll take from you all I can."
The red face of "King" Plummer suddenly turned gray, and Harley saw it, but he did not see what caused it. There was the light, swift tread of footsteps behind him, a warm breath upon his face, and then Sylvia's arms were around his neck and she was upon his breast.
"Shoot if you want to," she said to the "King," "but your bullet will strike me first."
Her eyes, for the first time in her life, sparkled defiance at him, and their gaze stabbed the "King" to the heart.