over hers. "I told th' boss I 'm goin' to get a job up here, so I 'll know Mr. Clarke won't come back. But you know, he only thought he was bad. I shore had to take his ol' gun away from him so he would n't go an' shoot hisself, an' when las' seen he was feelin' for his cayuse, intendin' to leave these parts. That 's what I done," he nodded, brightly. "Now comes what I 'm goin' to do. Oh, Li'l Miss," he whispered, eagerly. "I 'm jus' all mixed up an' millin'. My own feet plumb get in my way. So I jus' gotta stick aroun' an' change yore name, what you don't like. Uh-huh; that's jus' what I gotta do," he smiled.
She tossed her head and the tip-tilt nose went up indignantly. "Indeed you 'll do nothing of the kind, Sammy Porter!" she retorted. "I'll choose my own name when the time comes, and it will not be Porter!"
He arose slowly and looked around. Picking up the pencil that lay on the shelf he lounged over to the partition and printed his name three times in large letters. "All right, Li'l Miss," he agreed. "I 'll jus' leave a list where you can
