She busied herself with the details of her work, nodded now and again to
one of the riders as they drifted in, smiled and chatted as occasion
demanded, but always with that weight upon her heart she could not shake
off. Now, and then again, came to her through the window the voices of
Public Opinion on the porch. She made out snatches of the talk, and knew
the tide was running strongly against the nester. The sound of Healy's
low, masterful voice came insistently. Once, as she looked through the
window, she saw a tilted flask at his lips.

Suddenly she became aware, without knowing why, that something was
happening, something that stopped her heart and drew her feet swiftly to
the door.

Conversation had ceased. All eyes were deflected to a pair of riders
coming down the Bear Creek trail with that peculiar jog that is neither
a run nor a walk. They seemed quite at ease with the world. Speech and
laughter rang languid and carefree. But as they swung from the saddles
their eyes swept the group before them with the vigilance of
searchlights in time of war.

Brill Healy leaned forward, his right hand resting lightly on his thigh.

"So you've come back, Mr. Keller," he said.

"As you see."

"But not on that roan of yours, I notice."

"You notice correctly, seh."

"Now I wonder why." Healy spoke with a drawl, but his eyes glittered
menacingly.

"I expect you know why, Mr. Healy," came the quiet retort.

"Meaning?"

"That the roan was stolen from the pasture two nights ago. Do you happen
to know the name of the thief?"

The cattleman laughed harshly, but behind his laughter lay rising anger.
"So that's the story you're telling, eh? Sounds most as convincing as
that yarn about the pocketknife you picked up."

"I'm not quite next to your point. Have I got to explain to you why I do
or don't ride a certain horse, seh?"

"It ain't necessary. We all know why. You ain't riding it because there
is a bullet wound in the roan's flank that might be some hard to
explain."

"I don't know what you mean. I haven't seen the horse for two days. It
was stolen, as I say. Apparently you know a good deal about that roan.
I'd be right pleased to hear what you know, Mr. Healy."

"Glad to death to wise you, Mr. Keller. That roan was in Noches
yesterday, and you were on its back."

The nester shook his head. "No, I reckon not."

Yeager broke in abruptly: "What have you got up your sleeve, Brill? Spit
it out."

"Glad to ob