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"His
name is Farnham."
Brown's right hand swung back to his belt, his teeth gripped like those
of a fighting dog.
"Hell!" he ejaculated, forgetting to stutter. "Is that him? Biff
Farnham? An' he 's after you is he, the damned Mormon?"
She nodded, her cheeks growing rosy from embarrassment. Brown cast a
quick, comprehensive glance from the face of the woman to where the man
was now leaning lazily against the wall.
"All r-right, little g-girl," he said slowly, and with grave
deliberation. "I-I reckon I n-never went b-back on any p-pard yet.
B-blamed if y-y-you hate thet c-cuss any worse th-than I do. Y-you
bet, I 'll take you out o' h-h-here safe 'nough."
He drew her more closely against his side, completely shielding her
slender figure from observation by the intervention of his giant body,
and thus they passed out together into the gloomy but still riotous
street. A block or more down, under the glaring light of a noisy
saloon, the girl looked up questioningly into his boyish face.


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