"Only yesterday, or the day
before, she told me she could not choose--yet."
"She'll choose," answered Tex, "an' she won't choose--me. She ain't
makin' no mistake, neither. By God, I know a man when I see one!"
Endicott stepped forward and shook his fist in the cowboy's face: "It's
the only chance. You can do it--I can't. For God's sake, man, be
sensible! Either of us would do it--for her. It is only a question of
success, and all that it means; and failure--and all that that means.
You know the country--I don't. You are experienced in fighting this
damned desert--I'm not. Any one of a dozen things might mean the
difference between life and death. You would take advantage of them--I
couldn't."
"You're a lawyer, Win--an' a damn good one. I wondered what your trade
was. If I ever run foul of the law, I'll sure send for you, _pronto_.
If I was a jury you'd have me plumb convinced--but, I ain't a jury. The
way I look at it, the case stands about like this: We can't stay here,
and there can't only two of us go. I can hold out here longer than you
could, an' you can go just as far with the horses as I could. Just give
them their head an' let them drift--that's all I could do. If the storm
lets up you'll see the Split Rock water-hole--you can't miss it if you're
in sight of it, there's a long black ridge with a big busted rock on the
end of it, an' just off the end is a round, high mound--the soda hill,
they call it, and the water-hole is between.
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