it goes
double."

"Not able to play his own hand, eh?"

"Not when you've got a six-shooter and he hasn't. Not after he has just
been wounded by another gunman he cleaned up with his bare hands. You and
yore friends are lookin' for things too easy."

"Easy, hell! I'll fight you and him both, with or without guns. Any time.
Any place."

Doble backed away till his figure grew vague in the darkness. Came the
crack of a revolver. A bullet tore a splinter from the wall of the shack
in front of which Dave was standing. A jeering laugh floated to the two
men, carried on the light night breeze.

Bob whipped out his revolver, but he did not fire. He and his friend
slipped quietly to the far end of the house and found shelter round the
corner.

"Ain't that like Dug, the damned double-crosser?" whispered Bob. "I
reckon he didn't try awful hard to hit you. Just sent his compliments
kinda casual to show good-will."

"I reckon he didn't try very hard to miss me either," said Dave dryly.
"The bullet came within a foot of my head."

"He's one bad citizen, if you ask me," admitted Hart, without reluctance.
"Know how he came to break with the old man? He had the nerve to start
beauin' Miss Joyce. She wouldn't have it a minute. He stayed right with
it--tried to ride over her. Crawford took a hand and kicked him out.
Since then Dug has been one bitter enemy of the old man."

"Then Crawford had better look out. If Doble isn't a killer, I've never
met one."

"I've got a fool notion that he ain't aimin' to kill him; that maybe he
wants to help Steelman bust him so as he can turn the screws on him and
get Miss Joyce. Dug must 'a' been makin' money fast in Brad's company.
He's on the inside."

Dave made no comment.

"I expect you was some surprised when I told Dug who was roostin' on the
step so clost to him," Hart went on. "Well, I had a reason. He was due to
find it out anyhow in about a minute, so I thought I'd let him know we
wasn't tryin' to keep him from knowin' who his neighbor was; also that I
was good and ready for him if he got red-haided like Miller done."

"I understood, Bob," said his friend quietly.

CHAPTER XIX

AN INVOLUNTARY BATH

Jackpot Number Three hooked its tools the second day after Sanders's
visit to that location. A few hours later its engine was thumping merrily
and the cable rising and falling monotonously in the casing. On the
afternoon of the third day Bob Hart rode up to the wildcat wel