a
fair fight. But you've got to show us proof," Sanders said with a sneer.

"I expect just now you'll have to take my word and his. I'll tell you
this. Ranse Roush was a renegade. He was ridin' with a bunch of bronco
bucks. They attacked the Roubideau place an' we rode--Jim an' I did--to
help Pierre an' his family. We drove the 'Paches off, but they picked up
Miss Pauline while she was out ridin' alone. We took after 'em. I got
wounded an' Jim here went up a gulch lickety-split to catch the red
devils. He got four 'Paches an' one hell-hound of a renegade. Is there a
white man here that blames him for it?"

When all is said, the prince of deadly weapons at close range is the
human eye. Billie was standing beside his friend, one hand resting
lightly on his shoulder. The cowpuncher was as lithe and clean of build
as a mastiff, but it was the steady candor of his honest eye that spoke
most potently.

"Naturally you tell a good story," retorted the foreman with dry
incredulity. "It's up to you to come through with an explanation of why
Webb's men have just gunned three of our friends. Your story doesn't make
any hit with me. I don't believe a word of it."

"You can take it or let it alone. It goes as I've told it," Prince cut
back shortly.

Another man spoke up. He was a tinhorn gambler of Los Portales and for
reasons of his own foregathered with the Snaith-McRobert faction. "Look
here, young fellow. You may or may not be in this thing deep. I'm willin'
to give you the benefit of the doubt if my friends are. I'd hate to see
you bumped off when you didn't do any of the killin'. All we want is
justice. This is a square town. When bad men go too far we plant 'em on
Boot Hill. Understand? Now you slide out of the back door, slap a saddle
on your bronc, an' hit the high spots out of here,"

"And Clanton?" asked Billie.

"We'll attend to Clanton's case,"

A faint smile touched the sardonic face of Prince. "What did you ever see
me do to give you the notion that I was yellow, Bancock?"

"This ain't your affair. You step aside an' let justice--"

"If those that holler for justice loudest had it done to them there would
be a lot of squealin' outside of hogpens."

"You won't take that offer, then?"

"Not this year of our Lord, thank you."

"You've had your chance. If you turn it down you're liable to go out of
here feet first."

Not a muscle twitched in the lean, brown face of the young cowpuncher.
"Cut loose wheneve