Cartwright sneered, and Sinclair stiffened in his chair.
"Son," he said gravely, "the worst enemies I got will all tell you that Riley Sinclair don't handle his own word careless. And I give you my solemn word of honor that I didn't know she was a girl till this evening, and that, right away after I found it out, I come down here to straighten things out with you if I could. Will you believe it?"
It was a strange study to watch the working in the face of
Cartwright—of hope, passion, doubt, hatred. He leaned closer to
Sinclair, his big hands clutched together.
"Sinclair, I wish I could believe it!"
"Look me in the eye, man! I can stand it."
"By the Lord, it's true! But, Sinclair, have you come down to find out if I'd take her back?"
"Would you?"
The other grew instantly crafty. "She's done me a pile of wrong,
Sinclair."
"She has," said the cowpuncher. He went on gently: "She must of cut into your pride a lot."
"Oh, if it was known," said Cartwright, turning pale at the thought, "she'd make me a laughing stock! Me, old Cartwright's son!"