ief against that of the
biggest owner within two hundred miles, and Slade would laugh at
him--or kill him, according to whatever mood he happened to be in."

They had turned their horses down a long ridge that led to the wagon in
the bottoms.

"I'll mention to the boys that Morrow sold out the interests of the
Three Bar while he was drawing down your pay. They'll pass sentence on
him right sudden. Four hours from now they'll have dry-gulched him so
far from nowhere that even the coyotes can't find him."

"Not that," she said. "Turn him over to the sheriff. You caught him
in the act."

"In the act of missing a few cows on his detail. The sheriff would
hold him almost an hour before he let him go."

"Then give him his check and send him off the Three Bar range," she
said.

Harris waited till the herd had been worked and the men had gathered
round the wagon. Then he handed Morrow a check.

"Here's your time," he said. "You can be leaving almost any time now."

Every man knew that Morrow had been caught at some piece of work
contrary to the interests of the Three Bar. The discharged hand gave a
short ugly laugh.

"As soon as you pussyfooted into the foreman's job I knew it was only a
question of time," he said.

"Exactly," Harris returned. "Pack your stuff."

"A foreman has a scattering of a dozen or so men to back him up,"
Morrow observed with a shrug of one shoulder toward the rest of the men.

Harris turned to the girl.

"I resign for about sixty seconds," he said and swung back toward
Morrow; and again all hands noted his queer quartering stand. "I'm not
foreman right at this minute," he said. "So if you had anything in
particular to address to me in a personal vein you can start now.
Otherwise you'd better be packing your stuff."

Morrow turned his back and headed for the rope corral. When he had
saddled one horse and packed his effects on another he turned to Evans.

"You helped frame this on me," he said. "I thought I saw you messing
over into my detail a few days back."

"Right on the first ballot," Lanky assented. "I'm only riding for one
brand at a time."

"One day right soon I'll run across you again," Morrow prophesied.

"Then I'll take to riding with my head over my shoulder--surveying my
back-track," Lanky promised. "Because we'll most likely meet from
behind."

For the first time Morrow's bleak face changed expression, the lines
deepening from the strain of holding hims