While laboring in this state of indecision she must have voiced her ambition in some effective manner to the parties concerned, for late one Wednesday night Moffat tramped heavily into the Miners' Retreat and called Long Pete Lumley over into a deserted corner of the bar-room.
"Well, Jack," the latter began expectantly, "hev ye railly got the cinch on that cowboy at last, hey ?" "Dern it all, Pete, I 'm blamed if I know; leastwise, I ain't got no sure prove-up.

I tell ye thet girl's just about the toughest piece o' rock I ever had any special call to assay.

I think first I got her good an' proper, an' then she drops out all of a sudden, an' I lose the lead.

It's mighty aggravating let me tell ye.

Ye see it's this way.
She 's got some durn down East-notion that she's got ter be rescued, an' borne away in the arms of her hero (thet's 'bout the way she puts it), like they do in them pesky novels the Kid 's allers reading and so I reckon I 've got ter rescue her!" "Rescue her from whut, Jack?
Thar' ain't nuthin' 'round yere just now as I know of, less it's rats." The lover glanced about to make sure they were alone.