if there was not a stain on his crippled soul.

Unlike the meal of canned oysters which he had consumed as Chadron's
guest not many days before, Thorn was not welcomed to this by friendly
words and urging to take off the limit. Chadron sat watching him, in
divided attention and with dark face, as if he turned troubles over in
his mind.

Thorn cleaned the platter in front of him, and looked round hungrily,
like a cat that has half-satisfied its stomach on a stolen bird. He
said nothing, only he reached his foul hand across the table and took
up the dish containing the remnant of Chadron's breakfast. This he
soon cleared up, when he rasped the back of his hand across his harsh
mustache, like a vulture preening its filthy plumage, and leaned back
with a full-stomached sigh.

"He makes six," said he, looking hard at Chadron.

"Huh!" Chadron grunted, noncommittally.

"I want the money, down on the nail, a thousand for the job. I'm
through."

"I'll have to look into it. I ain't payin' for anything sight 'nseen,"
Chadron told him, starting out of his speculative wanderings.

"Money down, on the nail," repeated Thorn, as if he had not heard. His
old cap was hovering over his long hair, its flaps down like the wings
of a brooding hen. There were clinging bits of broken sage on it, and
burrs, which it had gathered in his skulking through the brush.

"I'll send a man up the river right away, and find out about this last
one," Chadron told him, nodding slowly. "If you've got Macdonald--"

"If hell's got fire in it!"

"If you've got him, I'll put something to the figure agreed on between
you and me. The other fellers you've knocked over don't count."

"I'll hang around--"

"Not here! You'll not hang around here, I tell you!" Chadron cut him
off harshly, fairly bristling. "Snake along out of here, and don't let
anybody see you. I'll meet you at the hotel in the morning."

"Gittin' peticlar of your company, ain't you?" sneered Thorn.

"You're not company--you're business," Chadron told him, with stern
and reproving eyes.

* * * * *

Chadron found Mark Thorn smoking into the chimney in the hotel office
next morning, apparently as if he had not moved from that spot since
their first meeting on that peculiar business. The old man-killer did
not turn his head as Chadron entered the room with a show of caution
and suspicion in his movements, and closed the door after him.

He c