It was a meeting of forces widely different, yet each in its way thrilling with a wonderful honesty of purpose. And, curiously enough, the purpose of Scipio, who lacked so much of the other’s intellect and force, became, in a measure, the dominating factor. It took hold of the gambler, and stirred him as he had never been stirred before.
Suddenly Wild Bill leaned forward. Once more those swift, relentless eyes focused and compelled the others.
“Zip,” he said in a tone that was strangely thrilling, “maybe I didn’t get all you felt––all you got in that tow-head of yours. That bein’ so, guess I owe you amends. But I’m goin’ to ast you to sure fergit that gal’s letter––fer awhiles. I’m goin’ to ast you to turn that bussock-headed mule you’re drivin’ right around, and hit back for the Creek. You do this, Zip, an’ I’ll tell you what I’m goin’ to do. I ain’t no sentimental slob. I ain’t got the makin’s in me of even a store-mussed angel. See? But if you do this I swar to you right here I’m goin’ to see your Jessie right. I swar to you I’ll rid her of this ‘Lord’ James, an’ it’ll jest be up to you to do the rest. Git me?”
Scipio took a breath that was something like a gasp.
“You’ll––you’ll help me get her back?” he breathed, with a glow of hope which almost shocked his companion.
“I’m not promisin’ that,” said Bill quickly. “That’s sure up to you. But I give it you right here, I’ll––shift this doggone skunk out of your way.”
Scipio made no verbal reply. Just for a moment he looked into the gimlet eyes of the other. He saw the iron purpose there. He saw the stern, unyielding compression of the lean, muscular jaws. There was something tremendous in the suggestion of power lying behind this ruffian’s exterior. He turned away and gathered up the old mule’s reins.
“You’ve allus been friendly to me, Bill, so––”
He pulled off the trail and turned the mule’s head in the direction of home. And the rest of the gambler’s journey was done in the wake of Minky’s buckboard.