“Roy, you know that Riggs can't last out here.”
“Wal, I hope he lasts till I get on my feet again.”
“There you go! Hopeless, all you boys! You must spill blood!” murmured Helen, shudderingly.
“Dear Miss Helen, don't take on so. I'm like Dale—no man to hunt up trouble. But out here there's a sort of unwritten law—an eye for an eye—a tooth for a tooth. I believe in God Almighty, an' killin' is against my religion, but Riggs shot me—the same as shootin' me in the back.”
“Roy, I'm only a woman—I fear, faint-hearted and unequal to this West.”
“Wait till somethin' happens to you. 'Supposin' Beasley comes an' grabs you with his own dirty big paws an', after maulin' you some, throws you out of your home! Or supposin' Riggs chases you into a corner!”
Helen felt the start of all her physical being—a violent leap of blood. But she could only judge of her looks from the grim smile of the wounded man as he watched her with his keen, intent eyes.
“My friend, anythin' can happen,” he said. “But let's hope it won't be the worst.”
He had begun to show signs of weakness, and Helen, rising at once, said that she and Bo had better leave him then, but would come to see him the next day. At her call Carmichael entered again with Mrs. Cass, and after a few remarks the visit was terminated. Carmichael lingered in the doorway.
“Wal, Cheer up, you old Mormon!” he called.