"Hangs like a charm," he said, "a charm that 'll be apt to make men step about."
And her father broke in rather hoarsely: "Sit down, girl. Sit down and be one of us. One of us you are by your own choice from this day on. You're neither man nor woman, but a long-rider with every man's hand against you. You've done with any hope of a home or of friends. You're one of us. Poor Jack—my girl!"
"Poor?" she returned. "Not while I can make a quick draw and shoot straight."
And then she swept the circle of eyes, daring them to take her boast lightly, but they knew her too well, and were all solemnly silent. At this she relented somewhat, and went directly to Pierre, flushing from throat to hair. She held out her hand.
"Will you shake and call it square?"
"I sure will," nodded Pierre.
"And we're pals—you and me, like the rest of 'em?"
"We are."
"Shake again."
She took the place beside him.
Garry Patterson was telling how he had said farewell to a Swedish sweetheart, and the roar of laugher took the eyes away from Jacqueline for a moment. So she leaned to Pierre le Rouge and whispered at his ear: "Pierre you've made me the happiest fellow on the range."
As the whisky went round after round and the fun waxed higher the two seemed shut away from the others; they were younger, less touched and
