"That you, Peter?" he said.

And Peter, listening, recognized that Jim was sober.

"Yes," he replied, "just going home."

"Me, too."

There was a brief pause after that, and both men were thinking of the same thing. It was of the scene recently enacted at the saloon. Peter was the one to break the silence, and he ignored that which was in his thoughts.

"Goin' to the ranch on foot, and by way of Eve's shack," he said in his gently humorous fashion.

"Ye-es," responded Jim after a moment's thought. Then he added with a conscious laugh, "My 'plug' is back there at Rocket's tie-post, waiting, saddled." Then he went on, becoming suddenly earnest. "Peter, I'm going for good. That is, I'm going to quit McLagan's, and get out.

You see, I just wanted to have a look at her shack--for the last time. I--I don't feel I can go without that. She won't see me, and----"

"Sort of final look round before you quit the--sinking ship, eh?"

The quiet seriousness of the big man's tone sounded keenly incisive in the stillness of the dark night. Jim started, and hot blood mounted to his head. He had been through so much that day that his nerves were still on edge.

"What d'ye mean?" he demanded sharply. "Who's deserting a sinking ship--where's the sinking ship?"

Peter pointed back at Eve's home.

"There," he said.

But Jim shook his head.

"I've drunk a lot to-day. Maybe my head's not clear. Maybe----"

Peter's voice broke in.

"It doesn't need much clearness to understand, if you know all the facts. I'm not going to tell all I've seen and heard to-day either.

But I'm going to say a few words to you, Jim, because I know you and like you, and because, in spite of a few cranks in your head, you're a man. Just now you're feeling reckless. Nothing much matters to you.

You're telling yourself that there's no particular reason keeping straight. You have no interest, and when the end comes you'll just shut out your lights and--well, there's nothing more to it. That's how you're thinking."

"And what's my thoughts to do with quitting a sinking ship?" Jim asked a trifle impatiently. "I don't deny you're likely right. I confess I don't see that there's much incentive to--well, to stick to a straight and narrow course. I'll certainly strike a gait of my own, and I don't know that it'll be a slow one. It'll be honest though. It'll be honest as far as the laws of man go. As for the other laws, well, they're for my personal consideration as far as my life is concerned.

But this sinking ship. I'd like to know."

"You love Eve?" Peter abruptly demanded.

"For G----'s sake, what are you driving at?"

"You love her?" Peter's demand would admit of no avoidance.

"Better than my life."

Jim's answer was deep down in his voice; his whole soul was in his reply.

"Then don't quit McLagan's, boy," Peter went on earnestly. "Don't quit Barnriff. Jim, boy, you can't have her, but you can help her to happiness by standing by. I'm going to stand by, too, for she's going to need all the help we can both give her."

"But how can I 'stand by' with Will--her husband?"

"You must stand by _because_ he's her husband."

"G.o.d!"

"Jim, can't you try to forget things where he's concerned? Can't you try to forget that shooting match and its result? Can't you? Think well. Can't you, outwardly at least, make things up with him? It'll help to keep him right, and help toward her happiness. Jim, I ask you to do this for her sake, lad. I know what you don't know, and I can't tell you. It's best I don't tell you. It would do worse than no good.

You say you love her better than life. Well, boy, if Eve's to be made happy we must help to keep Will right. He's got a devil in him somewhere, and anything that goes awry with him sets that devil raging. Are you going to help Eve, Jim?"

It was some moments before any answer was forthcoming. It was the old battle going on of the man against himself. All that was human in Jim was tearing him in one direction, while his better side--his love for Eve--was pulling him in the opposite. He hated Will now. He had given way in this direction completely. The man's final outrage at the saloon had killed his last grain of feeling for him. And now he was called upon to--outwardly, at least--take up his old att.i.tude toward him, a course that would help Will to give the woman he had robbed him of the happiness which he himself was not allowed to bestow. Was ever so outrageous a demand upon a man? He laughed bitterly, and aloud.

"No, no, Peter; it can't be done. I'm no saint. I'd hate to be a saint. Will can go hang--he can go to the devil! And I say that because I love Eve better than all else in the world."

"And the first sacrifice for that love you refuse?"

"Yes. I refuse to give my friendship to Will."

"You love her, yet you will not help her to happiness?"

"She shall never lack for happiness through me."

Peter smiled in the darkness. A sigh of something like satisfaction escaped him. He knew that, in spite of the man's spoken refusal, his appeal was not entirely unavailing.

"You won't leave McLagan's then?" he said.

"Not if Eve needs me."

"Then don't."

But Jim became suddenly impatient.

"For G----'s sake, man, can't you speak out?"

"For Eve's sake, I won't," was the quiet rejoinder.

"Then, Peter, I'm going right on to the ranch now. I'll remain. But, remember, I am no longer a friend of Will's--and never will be again.

I'll never even pretend. But if I can help Eve you can call on me.

And--I put no limit on the hand I play. So long."

"So long."

CHAPTER XI

A WEDDING-DAY IN BARNRIFF