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grande senor ver mooch。 She like senor keese。 She'
〃Then Isbel hit the little greaser a back…handed crack in the mouth。
Sure it was a crack！ Lorenzo went over the counter backward an' landed
like a pack load of wood。 An' he didn't git up。
〃'Mister Bruce；' said Isbel； 'an' you fellars who heerd thet lyin'
greaser； I did meet Ellen Jorth。 An' I lost my head。 I 'I kissed her。
。 。 。 But it was an accident。 I meant no insult。 I apologizedI tried
to explain my crazy action。 。 。 。 Thet was all。 The greaser lied。 Ellen
Jorth was kind enough to show me the trail。 We talked a little。 ThenI
supposebecause she was young an' pretty an' sweetI lost my head。 She
was absolutely innocent。 Thet damned greaser told a bare…faced lie when
he said she liked me。 The fact was she despised me。 She said so。 An'
when she learned I was Jean Isbel she turned her back on me an' walked
away。〃'
At this point of his narrative the old man halted as if to impress
Ellen not only with what just had been told； but particularly with
what was to follow。 The reciting of this tale had evidently given
Sprague an unconscious pleasure。 He glowed。 He seemed to carry the
burden of a secret that he yearned to divulge。 As for Ellen； she was
deadlocked in breathless suspense。 All her emotions waited for the end。
She begged Sprague to hurry。
〃Wal； I wish I could skip the next chapter an' hev only the last to
tell；〃 rejoined the old man； and he put a heavy； but solicitous； hand
upon hers。 。 。 。 Simm Bruce haw…hawed loud an' loud。 。 。 。 'Say； Nez
Perce；' he calls out； most insolent…like； 'we air too good sheepmen
heah to hev the wool pulled over our eyes。 We shore know what y'u
meant by Ellen Jorth。 But y'u wasn't smart when y'u told her y'u was
Jean Isbel！ 。 。 。 Haw…haw！'
〃Isbel flashed a strange； surprised look from the red…faced Bruce to
Greaves and to the other men。 I take it he was wonderin' if he'd
heerd right or if they'd got the same hunch thet 'd come to him。
An' I reckon he determined to make sure。
〃'Why wasn't I smart？' he asked。
〃'Shore y'u wasn't smart if y'u was aimin' to be one of Ellen Jorth's
lovers；' said Bruce； with a leer。 'Fer if y'u hedn't give y'urself
away y'u could hev been easy enough。'
〃Thar was no mistakin' Bruce's meanin' an' when he got it out some of
the men thar laughed。 Isbel kept lookin' from one to another of them。
Then facin' Greaves； he said； deliberately： 'Greaves； this drunken
Bruce is excuse enough fer a show…down。 I take it that you are
sheepmen； an' you're goin' on Jorth's side of the fence in the matter
of this sheep rangin'。'
〃'Wal； Nez Perce； I reckon you hit plumb center；' said Greaves； dryly。
He spread wide his big hands to the other men； as if to say they'd
might as well own the jig was up。
〃'All right。 You're Jorth's backers。 Have any of you a word to say
in Ellen Jorth's defense？ I tell you the Mexican lied。 Believin' me
or not doesn't matter。 But this vile…mouthed Bruce hinted against thet
girl's honor。'
〃Ag'in some of the men laughed； but not so noisy； an' there was a
nervous shufflin' of feet。 Isbel looked sort of queer。 His neck
had a bulge round his collar。 An' his eyes was like black coals of
fire。 Greaves spread his big hands again； as if to wash them of this
part of the dirty argument。
〃'When it comes to any wimmen I passmuch less play a hand fer a
wildcat like Jorth's gurl；' said Greaves； sort of cold an' thick。
'Bruce shore ought to know her。 Accordin' to talk heahaboots an'
what HE says； Ellen Jorth has been his gurl fer two years。'
〃Then Isbel turned his attention to Bruce an' I fer one begun to
shake in my boots。
〃'Say thet to me！' he called。
〃'Shore she's my gurl； an' thet's why Im a…goin' to hev y'u run off
this range。'
〃Isbel jumped at Bruce。 'You damned drunken cur！ You vile…mouthed liar！
。 。 。 。 I may be an Isbel； but by God you cain't slander thet girl to
my face！ 。 。 。 Then he moved so quick I couldn't see what he did。
But I heerd his fist hit Bruce。 It sounded like an ax ag'in' a beef。
Bruce fell clear across the room。 An' by Jinny when he landed Isbel
was thar。 As Bruce staggered up； all bloody…faced； bellowin' an'
spittin' out teeth Isbel eyed Greaves's crowd an' said： 'If any of
y'u make a move it 'll mean gun…play。' Nobody moved； thet's sure。
In fact； none of Greaves's outfit was packin' guns； at least in sight。
When Bruce got all the way uphe's a tall fellarwhy Isbel took a
full swing at him an' knocked him back across the room ag'in' the
counter。 Y'u know when a fellar's hurt by the way he yells。 Bruce
got thet second smash right on his big red nose。 。 。 。 I never seen
any one so quick as Isbel。 He vaulted over thet counter jest the
second Bruce fell back on it； an' then； with Greaves's gang in front
so he could catch any moves of theirs； he jest slugged Bruce right
an' left； an' banged his head on the counter。 Then as Bruce sunk
limp an' slipped down； lookin' like a bloody sack； Isbel let him
fall to the floor。 Then he vaulted back over the counter。 Wipin'
the blood off his hands； he throwed his kerchief down in Bruce's
face。 Bruce wasn't dead or bad hurt。 He'd jest been beaten bad。
He was moanin' an' slobberin'。 Isbel kicked him； not hard； but jest
sort of disgustful。 Then he faced thet crowd。 'Greaves； thet's what
I think of your Simm Bruce。 Tell him next time he sees me to run or
pull a gun。' An' then Isbel grabbed his rifle an' package off the
counter an' went out。 He didn't even look back。 I seen him nount
his horse an' ride away。 。 。 。 Now； girl； what hev you to say？〃
Ellen could only say good…by and the word was so low as to be almost
inaudible。 She ran to her burro。 She could not see very clearly
through tear…blurred eyes； and her shaking fingers were all thumbs。
It seemed she had to rush awaysomewhere； anywherenot to get away
from old John Sprague； but from herselfthis palpitating； bursting
self whose feet stumbled down the trail。 Allall seemed ended for
her。 That interminable story！ It had taken so long。 And every
minute of it she had been helplessly torn asunder by feelings she
had never known she possessed。 This Ellen Jorth was an unknown
creature。 She sobbed now as she dragged the burro down the canyon
trail。 She sat down only to rise。 She hurried only to stop。 Driven；
pursued； barred； she had no way to escape the flaying thoughts； no time
or will to repudiate them。 The death of her girlhood； the rending aside
of a veil of maiden mystery only vaguely instinctively guessed； the
barren； sordid truth of her life as seen by her enlightened eyes； the
bitter realization of the vileness of men of her clan in contrast to
the manliness and chivalry of an enemy； the hard facts of unalterable
repute as created by slander and fostered by low minds； all these were
forces in a cataclysm that had suddenly caught her heart and whirled
her through changes immense and agonizing； to bring her face to face
with reality； to force upon her suspicion and doubt of all she had
trusted； to warn her of the dark； impending horror of a tragic bloody
feud； and lastly to teach her the supreme truth at once so g