erybody doesn't know you as well
as I do. And your name suffers because you don't get along with the
cattlemen--Doubleday, Pettigrew and the rest."

"What then?"

"What then?" echoed Van Horn, feeling the up-hill pull. "Why, line up
with us against these rustlers. We're going to have a big get-together
barbecue this summer and when it's pulled we want you there. You'll have
a friend in every man on the range--however some of 'em feel now. They
know the stuff you're made of, Jim; they know if you put your hand to
your gun with them, you'll stay; and if you do it, they know it's good-by
to the rustlers."

Closely as Van Horn, while speaking, watched the effect of his words, it
was impossible to gather from Laramie's face the slightest clue as to the
impression they were making. Laramie sat quite relaxed, his back to the
corner, his legs crossed, listening. He looked straight ahead without so
much as blinking. Van Horn, nervous and impatient, scrutinized him:
"That's my hand, Jim," he said flatly. "What have you got?"

Laramie paused. After a moment he turned his eyes on his questioner: "No
hand. This is not my game."

"Make it your game and your game in this country is made. Doubleday and
Dan Pettigrew want you. They're the men that run this country--what do
you say?"

"The men that run this country can't run me."

Van Horn, in spite of his assurance, felt the blow. But he put on a
front. "What makes you talk that way?" he flared.

"This is the same bunch," continued Laramie evenly, "that sent two
different men to get me two years ago--and when I defended myself--had me
indicted. That indictment is still hanging for all I know. This is the
bunch that owns the district court."

Van Horn made a violent gesture. "What's the use raking up old sores?
That's past and gone. That indictment's been quashed long ago."

"This is the bunch," and Laramie spoke even more deliberately; he looked
directly, almost disconcertingly at Van Horn himself, "that sent the men
to rip off my wire just a while ago. I tracked 'em to Doubleday's and if
I'd found Doubleday or you or Stone there that day--if I'd got my eyes on
Barb Doubleday that day--you'd 've turned the men that pulled that wire
over to me or I'd known the reason why.

"Now these same critters and you have the gall to talk to me about
joining hands. Hell, I'd quicker join hands with a bunch of
rattlesnakes. When that crowd want me let them come and