ve
got a hankerin' for respectability--want the firm to stand well with
the new settlers. Legitimate business from now on. That's our motto,
boys."

"What church you been j'inin', C.N.?"

"Well, maybe it'll come to that too. Think I'd make a good deacon?"
the merchant asked amiably, untwining his legs and rising to stretch.

West slammed a big fist on the table so that the inkwell and the pens
jumped. "All I got to say is that this new Sunday-school outfit you
aim to run won't have no use for a he-man. I'm quittin' you right
now."

The foreman made the threat as a bluff. He was the most surprised man
in Montana when his employer called it quietly, speaking still in the
slow, nasal voice of perfect good-nature.

"Maybe you're right, West. That's for you to say, of course. You know
your own business best. Figure out your time an' I'll have Benson
write you a check. Hope you find a good job."

The sense of baffled anger in West foamed up. His head dropped down
and forward threateningly.

"You do, eh? Lemme tell you this, C.N. I don't ask no odds of you or
any other guy. Jes' because you're the head of a big outfit you can't
run on me. I won't stand for it a minute."

"Of course not. I'd know better'n to try that with you. No hard
feelings even if you quit us." It was a characteristic of the New
Englander that while he was a forceful figure in this man's country,
he rarely quarreled with any one.

"That so? Well, you listen here. I been layin' off that new pardner of
yours because he's yore kin. Not anymore. Different now. He's liable
to have a heluva time an' don't you forget it for a minute."

The fur-trader chewed his cud imperturbably. When he spoke it Was
still without a trace of acrimony.

"Guess you'll think better of that maybe, West. Guess you're a little
hot under the collar, ain't you? Don't hardly pay to hold grudges,
does it? There was Rhinegoldt now. Kept nursin' his wrongs an' finally
landed in the pen. Bad medicine, looks like to me."

West was no imbecile. He understood the threat underneath the suave
words of the storekeeper. Rhinegoldt had gone to the penitentiary
because C.N. Morse had willed it so. The inference was that another
lawbreaker might go for the same reason. The trail boss knew that this
was no idle threat. Morse could put him behind the bars any time he
chose. The evidence was in his hands.

The bully glared at him. "You try that, C.N. Jus' try it once.
There'll be a sudden