Flinging open the door, he dashed in to find the lady leaning against one of the tables, and the look which welcomed him was something a mere man is lucky to see once in a lifetime. As his hungry arms closed about her, he cried :
"Mary, what's the matter? Jim said yu were hurt."
"Dear old Jim," she smiled. "I was--you were going away." His hold tightened. "But, girl dear, I'm just "
"An ornery no'count puncher," she quoted.
"Yeah, an' yu got a ranch. What else could a fella do?" From the shelter of his shoulder came a muffled whisper. "I've got a heart, too. A fella could stay and look after--them both."
* * *
That same evening, in the privacy of his own parlour at the Red Light, the saloon-keeper tried again to persuade the mashal to remain.
"Shucks!" Sudden smiled. "Ever hear o' the Wandering Jew? He had the travel itch, same as me, an' there's no cure for it, ol'-timer; I gotta go." The saloon-keeper gave it up. "Welcome will find it mighty hard to part with you," he said glumly.
* * *
In the morning, the town awoke to find the marshal had solved the problem for it and himself by disappearing during the hours of darkness. The coming of daylight found him half-way to Drywash. A single farewell look, and he turned to face the lonely trail he had once more elected to tread.
THE END