ith him, had been born with
him, his face drawn and over-lengthened from the inner effort to render
his homicidal tendencies submissive to his brain, not through desire
for regeneration, for he had none, but as a mere matter of expediency.
The set, bleak expression of countenance was but a reflection of his
personality and his companions had sensed this strained quality without
being able to define it in words.

"You listen to what the squatter man tells you," Morrow said to Bangs.
"He'll put you right--give you a course in how everything ought to be
done." He rose and went outside.

"That was a real unhumorous laugh," Evans said. "Right from the bottom
of his heart."

A raucous bellow sounded from the cookhouse and every man within
earshot rose and moved toward the summons to feed.

"Let's go eat it up," Evans said and left the bunk house with Harris.

"Did you gather all the information you was prospecting for?" he asked.

Harris nodded. "I sorted out one man's number," he said.

"Now if you'd only whispered to me I'd have told you right off," Evans
said. "It's astonishing how easy it is to pick them if you try."

"Waddles is a right unpresuming sort of a man in most respects," Evans
volunteered as they entered the cookhouse. "But he's downright
egotistical about his culinary accomplishments."

All through the meal the gigantic cook hovered near Billie Warren as
she sat near one end of the long table. It was evident to Harris that
the big man was self-appointed guardian and counsellor of the Three Bar
boss. He showed the same fussy solicitude for her welfare that a hen
would show for her helpless chicks.

"Praise the grub and have a friend at court," Harris murmured in Evans'
ear.

Billie Warren had nearly completed her meal before the men came in.
She left the table and went to her own room. When Harris rose to go he
slapped the big man on the back.

"I'd work for half pay where you get grub like this," he said. "That's
what I'd call a real feed."

Waddles beamed and followed him to the door.

"It's a fact that I can set out the best bait you ever throwed a lip
over," he confessed. "You're a man of excellent tastes and it's a real
pleasure to have you about."

Billie Warren opened the door and motioned to Harris. He went into the
big front room that answered for both living room and sleeping
quarters. A fire burned in the rough stone fireplace; tanned pelts,
Indian curios and Navajo rug