essed that Carson was
hoping that events might so befall that there would be an open,
free-for-all fight and that he might not be forced to play the restless
part of a mere onlooker. Bud Lee hoped otherwise.

"There's two ways to get a man," said Carson meditatively, out of a
long silence. "An' both is good ways: with a gun or with your hands."

"Yes," agreed Bud quietly.

"If it works out gun way," continued Carson, still with that
thoughtful, half-abstracted look in his eyes, "it don't hurt to
remember, Bud, that he shoots left-handed an' from the hip."

Lee merely nodded. Carson did not look up from the bobbing ears of his
horse as he continued:

"If it works out the other way an' it's just fists, it don't hurt to
remember how Trevors put out Scotty Webb last year in Rocky Bend.
Four-footed style, striking with his boot square in Scotty's belly."

Trevors's name was not again referred to even in the vaguest terms.
The road in front of them, at last dropping down into the valley in
which the lumber-camp was, straightened out into a lane that ran
between stumps to the clutter of frame buildings.

"Something doing at the office," offered Carson, as they drew near.
"Directors' meeting, likely."

Two automobiles stood in the road ten steps from the closed door of the
unpretentious shack which bore the printed legend, "Office, Western
Lumber Company." The big red touring-car certainly belonged to Melvin,
the company's president. Carson looked curiously at Lee.

Bud dismounted, dropped his horse's reins, shifted the revolver from
his shirt to his belt where it was at once unhidden and loosely held,
ready for a quick draw. Then he went up the three steps, Carson at his
heels, his gun also unhidden and ready. From within came voices, one
in protest, Bayne Trevors's ringing out, filled with mastery followed
by a laugh. Lee set his hand to the door. Then, only because it was
locked from within, did he knock sharply.

"Who is it?" came the sharp inquiry. But the man who made it and who
was standing by the door, threw it open.

"What do you want?" he demanded again. "We're busy."

"I want to see Trevors," said Lee coolly.

"You can't. He----"

Lee shoved the man aside and strode on. Carson, close at Lee's heels,
his eyes glittering, stepped a little aside when once he was within the
room and took his place with his back against the wall close to the
door.

It was a big, bare, barn-like room, furnis