The Texican

Pecos pondered upon it a minute longer, much as he had studied on Crit's proposition that it is no crime to rob a thief, and right there the cause of the revolution lost another fervent disciple.

"By God, Boone," he said, "I believe you're right!"

"W'y, of course I'm right!" cried Morgan, slapping him jovially on the back; "and there's a thousand dollars to prove it!"

He tore open the official envelope and thrust a sheaf of bills into the astonished cowboy's hands.

"Money talks," he observed sententiously, "only there're some people have such a roarin' in the ears they can't hear it. This roll of velvet is what's left from the tax sale of those Monkey-wrench cows I seized, and it says that you are a capitalist, with all the errors and prejudices of your class. Just put that into cows now, and look after 'em, and you'll forget all about the revolution."

"Hell's fire!" ejaculated Pecos, shutting down on the money. "You don't mean to say this is all mine?"

"That's right. I tried to give it to you last Fall, up there at Verde Crossing, but you heard the wind in your ears, clean to New Mexico. Guess your conscience was kind of troublin' you, hey?"

"Umm," answered Pecos absently. He was studying on how to spend his money. For several minutes he sat thumbing over the new bills and gazing out into the twilight; then he jammed them deep into his pocket and started for the door.

"Hey! Where you goin'?" shouted Boone Morgan, as he clattered down the steps. "Come back here and get this property envelope! You must've had an idee," he ventured, as Pecos reappeared.

"Yep," said Pecos, "an' a good one." He dumped the contents of his envelope on top of the desk and regarded the articles fixedly. There, sparkling brightly as when he first bought it, was the eighteen-carat, solitaire-diamond engagement-ring.

"That ought to come in pretty handy now," suggested the sheriff, pointing to it with the butt of his cigar.

"Nope," replied Pecos noncommittally, "too late now."

"That's bad," commented Boone Morgan sociably. "Mighty pretty girl, too. All off, hey?"

Pecos looked him over carefully, grunted, and started for the door.

It would be difficult to tell just how it happened so, but as Pecos Dalhart, with a firm resolve in his heart, dashed down the steps once more, his eye caught a darker shadow in the dusky corner of the jail and he stopped dead in his tracks. Then as his vision became adjusted to the twilight he walked slowly over toward the corner, where a woman's figure was crouched against the wall. It was Marcelina, worn, draggled, and tear-stained, and as she gazed up at him from beneath her tangled hair his heart stopped in its beat.

"Ah, Paycos," she murmured brokenly, "where can I go? The seesters lock me up in hi-igh room, for run away to see you. Two day I cry todo-tiempo because you no have ears – then I jump out of window to breeng them. Now I can not go home. An', Paycos," she rose up suddenly and moved toward him, "I am 'fraid! I am 'fraid Ol' Creet will catch me!"

"Crit nothin'!" said Pecos scornfully. "Come on over here – what's the matter with you?" He gathered her into his arms and held her close a minute.

"You ain't scairt now, are you?" he inquired tenderly.

"A-ah, no!" sighed Marcelina, nestling against his breast.

"Well, gimme that kiss, then," said Pecos.

There were no wedding bells at Pecos Dalhart's marriage – that takes too much time – but the county clerk gave him a license right away, Boone Morgan went along for a witness, and the J. P. did the rest. It was the same J. P. who had held Pecos for cattle-rustling, but what of that? Upon such an occasion the past is forgotten and we care little what hand it is that confers our greatest happiness. Pecos pressed a ten-dollar bill into the guilt-stained palm of the magistrate and then, while his roll was out, he peeled off another bill and handed it to Boone Morgan.

"Give that to Angy when he comes to," he said, "and tell 'im to hunt me up. Don't know where we'll live yet, but it wouldn't be like home without old Babe – would it, Marcelina?"

"Ah, Paycos," breathed Marcelina, gazing up at him with adoring eyes, "you are such a goo-ood man!"

The rustler glanced doubtfully over his shoulder at Boone Morgan, grinned, and passed out into the starlit night.

"All right, Chiquita," he said. "You got a monopoly on that idee – but whatever you say, goes!"

THE END