Black Mesa. Zane Grey

was hopeless. The situation was hopeless. But yet there seemed to be a great and heaving lift to the unknown forces deep within Paul’s breast.

      “Wal, I reckon we can now put this heah frost of a woman in plain sight,” drawled the cowboy, and taking the photograph of Paul’s lost sweetheart he placed it conspicuously on the bureau. Then, as that position did not appear to suit him, he tacked it on the wall, close to the mirror.

      “There! Every time you look at it you’ll shore compare her to this real girl heah—who’s gonna grow into a woman pronto—an’ love you as turrible as she hates Belmont. . . .”

      “Wess, you’re a romantic damn fool, that’s all,” Paul burst out. “This whole idea would be wrong—even if it wasn’t so crazy. . . . I’m sure nothing such as that will ever come to pass. . . .”

      Kintell hesitated by the door. “Paul, you’re a smart hombre aboot some things, but aboot some others you shore are dumb.” With that blunt statement he went out.