"How can I?" she asked, turning to the stranger and offering her gloved hand.
"Take this package to Mrs. Monaro in the white cottage on the river, down by the smelter—she's my wife; you'll find her; and if you'll take the trouble to be kind to her I shall die in your debt and remain so, so long as I'm dead. Now take this gun and protect that boy. They won't fire on you, and I don't care to kill anybody else, now that I am already overdue in another world."
She took the gun mechanically, and turned to face the posse that was at that moment be ginning to swarm from the cañon.
"Are you mad?" shouted the Warden.
"Drop that gun," cried a Sheriff, with his left arm in a sling.
The messenger, utterly unable to understand what the row was all about, attempted to rise, and in his excitement stood on his broken ankle, and the quick pain caused him to fall in a faint.
"Look after the boy," said the dark man, and the Warden's daughter dropped the ugly weapon and lifted her lover's head from the ground.
