e you waitin' for?" he cried, sharply, when twenty paces away.
"Ain't you got nothin' to do to-day?"

Conniston made no answer, turning his eyes gravely upon Brayley's
face, waiting for the man to come up to him.

"Can't you hear?" called Brayley again, more sharply, coming on
swiftly. "What are you waitin' an' loafin' here for?"

"I want to talk with you a minute." Conniston's voice was very quiet,
almost devoid of expression.

"Well, talk. An' talk fast! I ain't got all day."

Brayley was standing close to him now, his eyes boring into
Conniston's, his manner impatient, irritated. For just a moment
Conniston stood as though hesitating, leaning slightly forward,
balanced upon the balls of his feet. Then he sprang forward suddenly,
without sign of warning, taking the big foreman unawares, throwing
both arms about the stalwart body, driving the heavier body back with
the impact of the one hurled against it. Brayley, standing carelessly,
loosely, his feet not braced, but close together, unprepared for the
attack, fell heavily, lifted clean off his feet, born backward, and
slammed to the ground with the breath jolted out of him, Conniston on
top of him.

"You d--n coward!" he bellowed, as his breath came back into his body.
"Sneakin' coward!"

He bunched his great strength and hurled it against the man, who clung
to him. Still he was at a disadvantage, being under the other and
having both arms locked to his side by the clinging embrace which held
him powerless. For a moment the two men lay writhing and twisting upon
the ground, half hid in their quiet struggle by the dust which puffed
up from the dry ground about them. Then, as Brayley again gathered his
strength in a mighty effort to rid himself of the man who held him
down, Conniston loosened his hold, springing back and up to his feet.
And in each hand Conniston held one of Brayley's guns. A quick
gesture, and as Brayley rose to his feet he saw his two revolvers
flying skyward, over the high fence and into the big corral.

"You got 'em!" Brayley cried, hoarse with anger. "Shoot, you
coward--an' be d--d to you!"

For answer Conniston jerked his own gun from his belt, tossing it to
lie with Brayley's two in the dust of the corral.

"We're ruling guns out of this, Brayley," he said, quietly. "It's
going to be just man to man."

For a moment Brayley stood, open-mouthed, staring at him. Then, as
understanding came to him, a great roar burst from his lips, and