n were implicated, he could not betray one without
betraying the other. And if the business down there in the corral were
lawful, then he must think of some other means. At any rate, the thing
to do now was to make sure.

The two in the corral came out and closed the gate behind them, and the
first man kicked apart the embers of a small fire and afterward busied
himself with the ground--either looking for tracks or covering them Up.
They came a little way along the side of the bluff, mounted, and rode
up toward where the lookout waited. And one of them rode a dark bay,
and was slim and tall, and wore a gray hat.

Ward glanced at Rattler standing half asleep with reins dropped to the
ground. He reached out, took the reins, and led the horse farther down
under the shelter of the ledge. Rattler pricked up his ears at the
sound of those other riders, but he did not show enough interest to
nicker a greeting; he was always a self-centered beast and was content
to go his way alone, like his master.

Ward stood up, where he could see the rim of the bluff over the ledge
of lava rock. He might get a closer view and see who was the look out,
and he might be seen; for that contingency he kept his fingers close to
his gun. He heard their scrambling progress. Now and then one of the
horses sent a little rock bounding down into the canyon, whereat the
cattle on the corral moved restlessly around the small inclosure.

They came closer, after they had gained the top. Ward, leaning against
the dull-gray rock before him, heard the murmur of their voices. Once
he caught the unmistakable tones of the man he would like to kill.
"I'll keep cases and git him." Plotting against some poor devil, as
usual, Ward thought, and wondered if the man knew he lived in this part
of the country; if he did, it might easily be--

"I'll keep cases some myself, you damned reptile," he muttered under
his breath. "You won't get me again, if that's what you've got in
mind."

They went on, and presently Ward was looking at their backs as they
rode over the ridge. He stood for some time staring after them with
what Billy Louise called his gimlet look. He was breathing shortly
from the pressure he had put upon his self-control, and he was
thinking--thinking.

The silence came creeping in on the heels of the faint, interrupted
sound of their voices. Ward took a long breath, discovered that he was
gripping his gun as though his life depended on