"Oh, is it? What would you think if your sis—"
"Wait till I finish," interrupted the fellow, hotly. "We came down here to be married."
The statement made, Tim rushed on, regardless of consequences: "We got tired of waiting for you to keep your promise of giving your consent to the wedding. And as Susie needs some one to protect her from the detectives who haunt the house because of your—"
"Take care," hissed Jesse. "I'm in no pleasant mood to-night." But as he caught the look of appeal cast him by his sister, his anger vanished and taking her head between his hands, he laughed: "So that was the cause of your coming to the Springs. Phew! An elopement!
"Jicky, but it must have been an awful shock to you when you saw Cole.
"You stood by like a trump, though, when we were caught in the house and I guess you are entitled to a reward.
"Come here, Tim. Give me your hand—that's it. Now take Sue's. There you are. You may have her, boy, but if I ever hear a word of complaint of your treatment of her, well—you'd better light out for the tall timber before I can hit your trail."
The dramatic scene of the betrothal, a lonely spot in the country, the starless canopy of heaven above, the white road against which was silhouetted the figure of the prisoner, hands above his head, his captors covering him with their rifles, the huddled bodies of the dead men at his feet, with no sounds save the creaking of the saddle leather and their own breathing to break the awesome silence of the night, impressed the actors profoundly.
From one to another they looked, the expressions on their faces proclaiming they were aware that but for the timely interference, bloody and terrible as it was, of the dread bandits they might even at that moment be lying in the places of the lifeless forms.
"Come, this is time for mirth, not tears," rallied Jesse. "Boys, pull out your flasks. We'll drink to the health and happiness of the future Mrs. and Mr. Timothy Mason."