fact from fiction in Shaky's story. He felt that
there must be some exaggeration. At last he broke the silence, and all
eyes were turned on him.

"And do you mean to say there is no law to protect people on these
outlying stations? Do you mean to tell me that men sit down quietly
under such dastardly tyranny?" His questions were more particularly
directed toward Shaky.

"Law?" replied the carpenter. "Law? Say, we don't rec'nize no law
around these parts--not yet. Mebbe it's comin', but--I 'lows ther's
jest one law at present, an' that we mostly carries on us. Oh, Jake
Harnach's met his match 'fore now. But 'tain't frekent. Yes, Jake's a
big swine, wi' the muscle o' two men; but I've seen him git downed,
and not a hund'ed mile from wher' we're settin'. Say, Ike," he turned
to the man behind the bar, "you ain't like to fergit the night Black
Anton called his 'hand.' Ther' ain't no bluff to Anton. When he gits
to the bizness end of a gun it's best to get your thumbs up sudden."

The saloon-keeper nodded. "Guess there's one man who's got Jake's
measure, an' that's Black Anton."

The butcher added a punctuating laugh, while Slum nodded.

"And who's Black Anton?" asked Tresler of the saloon-keeper.

"Anton? Wal, I guess he's Marbolt's private hoss keeper. He's a
half-breed. French-Canadian; an' tough. Say, he's jest as quiet an'
easy you wouldn't know he was around. Soft spoken as a woman, an' jest
about as vicious as a rattler. Guess you'll meet him. An' I 'lows he's
meetable--till he's riled."

"Pleasant sort of man if he can cow this wonderful Jake," observed
Tresler, quietly.

"Oh, yes, pleasant 'nough," said Ike, mistaking his guest's meaning.

"The only thing I can't understand 'bout Anton," said Slum, suddenly
becoming interested, "is that he's earnin' his livin' honest. He's too
quiet, an'--an' iley. He sort o' slid into this territory wi'out a
blamed cit'zen of us knowin'. We've heerd tell of him sence from
'crost the border, an' the yarns ain't nice. I don't figger to argue
wi' strangers at no time, an' when Anton's around I don't never git
givin' no opinion till he's done talkin', when I mostly find mine's
the same as his."

"Some folks ain't got no grit," growled Shaky, contemptuously.

"An' some folk 'a' got so much grit they ain't got no room fer savee,"
rapped in Slum sharply.

"Meanin' me," said Shaky, sitting up angrily.

"I 'lows you've got grit," replied the little man quietly, looking
squ