"You couldn't guess," he suggested, "but there was someone who could guess for you. Someone who pretty well knew we were in town, who wanted to keep you away from Bill because he was afraid—"
"Of what?" she demanded sharply.
"Afraid of losing you."
This seemed to frighten her. "What do you know?" she asked.
"I know this," he answered, "that I think a girl like you, all in all, is too good for any man. But, if any man ought to have her, it's the gent that is fondest of her. And Bill is terrible fond of you, lady—he don't think of nothing else. He's grown thin as a ghost, longing for you."
"So he sends another man to risk his life to find me and tell me about it?" she demanded, between anger and sadness.
"He didn't send me—I just came. But the reason I came was because I knew Bill would give up without a fight."
"I hate a man who won't fight," said the girl.
"It's because he figures he's so much beneath you," said Ronicky. "And, besides, he can't talk about himself. He's no good at that at all. But, if it comes to fighting, lady, why, he rode a couple of hosses to death and stole another and had a gunfight, all for the sake of seeing you, when a train passed through a town."
She was speechless.