re, but did not
immediately speak. Silently, the two big men faced each other, their
glances crossing like rapiers: the cattleman like a statue in bronze in
the fixed rigidity of his attitude, but with an expression that showed
him one dangerous to trifle with; the agent affecting that half tolerant
amusement which one may feel toward an enemy unworthy of one's prowess.
Wade presently broke the silence.

"Moran, you may be a big man in the East, but you're not big enough for
the job you've tackled here. I've held my friends back as long as I
can--longer than I thought I could--and when they break loose, this
valley will be a little hell, perhaps a shambles. Men are going to be
killed, and I have a feeling that you are going to be one of them.
Against that time, once more, I warn you. Tell Jensen to trail his
sheep!"

Swinging on his heel, the ranchman left the office, paying no attention
to the ironical "Good night," which Moran called after him.

In the street, Wade chanced upon a neighboring cattle owner, Lem
Trowbridge of the Circle Heart outfit, who fell into step with him.

"Gordon, how long are we going to stand for this thing, eh? Say, do you
know what some are saying about you? Now, I'm your friend, and I'm
telling you straight that you've gone far enough with this pacifist
stuff."

"They say I'm afraid, I suppose?" Wade stopped and faced Trowbridge.
"Have they said that to you?"

"To me? Say, what the ---- kind of a friend do you take me for?"
Trowbridge flamed up like a match. "No, they haven't said just that,
Gordon; but they're hinting, and I don't like it."

"Well, if you hear it direct, send the man on to me with it," said Wade,
his lips compressing ominously. "I'm about through, Lem, not quite, but
pretty nearly. I've told Moran to have Jensen trail those sheep, and if
he doesn't...."

Trowbridge nodded and smiled, as they paused at a street corner--one of
the few that Crawling Water possessed.

"That's the idea, Gordon. We'll all be the readier for the waiting.
Well, I'll not go any farther with you." He winked with elaborate
precision and looked in the direction of a snug little cottage, with
flower boxes in the windows, a biscuit toss away. "She's home. I saw her
leave the store yonder a little while ago."

Wade blushed like a boy and looked foolish.

"I don't get into town so very often," he began lamely, when Trowbridge
slapped him heartily on the back.

"You don't need to make any ex