to take you
back to jail."

"Oh, then you want me!" said Mead, as if greatly surprised.

"That's what, old man!" Halliday's voice and manner suddenly became
genial. He thought Mead was going to surrender, as he had done before.
He had no desire for a battle, even four to one, with the man who had
the reputation of being the best and coolest shot in the southwest,
for he knew that he would be the first target for that unerring aim,
and he was accordingly much relieved by the absence of defiance and
anger in Mead's manner.

"You want me, do you?" said Mead, his voice suddenly becoming
sarcastic. "Is that what you've been waitin' around the Fillmore ranch
the last three weeks for? Why didn't you come straight over to my
house and say so, like a man who wasn't afraid? You want me, do you?
Well, now, what are you goin' to do about it?" There was a taunt in
Mead's tone that stirred the others to anger. Mead knew perfectly
well what his reputation was, and he knew, too, that they were afraid
of him.

"You won't surrender?"

"Whenever you've got any evidence for a warrant to stand on I'll give
myself up. I let you take me in before to stop trouble, but I won't do
it again, and you, and all your outfit, had better let me alone. I'm
not goin' to be run in on any fool charge fixed up to help the
Fillmore Company do me up. That's all there is about it, and you-all
had better turn tail and go back to camp."

While he was speaking the foreman said something to Antone Colorow,
and the man left the group and trotted away toward Mead's left as if
he were going back to camp. Without seeming to notice his departure,
Mead watched the cow-boy's actions from a corner of his eye while he
listened to Jim Halliday:

"Now, Emerson, be reasonable about this matter and give yourself up.
You know I've got to take you in, and I don't want to have any
gun-fight over it. The best thing you can do is to stand trial, and
clear yourself, if you can. That'll end the whole business."

Antone Colorow turned and came galloping back, his lariat in his hand.
Mead's revolver was still untouched in his holster, and his horse,
standing with drooping mane and tail, faced Halliday and the others.
The cow-boy came galloping through the rain from Mead's left, and so
far behind him that he could barely see the man from the corner of
his eye. He was apparently unconscious of Antone's approach as he
quietly replied to Halliday, but his fingers tightened on t