ency in Denver with orders
to find out the name of the man that photo fitted. My idea was for the
manager to send a man to the teachers of the high schools, beginning
with the school nearest Cherokee Street. He done it. The third
schoolmarm took one look at the picture and said the young fellow was
Royal Beaudry. She had taught him German two years. That's howcome I
to know what that 'R.B.' in the hat stands for."

"Perhaps it is some other Beaudry."

"Take another guess," retorted the cripple scornfully. "Right off when
I clapped eyes on him, I knew he reminded me of somebody. I know now
who it was."

"But what's he doing up here?" asked the big man.

The hawk eyes of Tighe glittered. "What do you reckon the son of John
Beaudry would be doing here?" He answered his own question with bitter
animosity. "He's gathering evidence to send Hal Rutherford and Jess
Tighe to the penitentiary. That's what he's doing."

Rutherford nodded. "Sure. What else would he be doing if he is a chip
of the old block? That's where his father's son ought to put us if he
can."

Tighe beat his fist on the table, his face a map of appalling fury and
hate. "Let him go to it, then. I've been a cripple seventeen years
because Beaudry shot me up. By God! I'll gun his son inside of
twenty-four hours. I'll stomp him off'n the map like he was a
rattlesnake."

"No," vetoed Rutherford curtly.

"What! What's that you say?" snarled the other.

"I say he'll get a run for his money. If there's any killing to be
done, it will be in fair fight."

"What's ailing you?" sneered Tighe. "Getting soft in your upper story?
Mean to lie down and let that kid run you through to the pen like his
father did Dan Meldrum?"

"Not in a thousand years," came back Rutherford. "If he wants war, he
gets it. But I'll not stand for any killing from ambush, and no
killing of any kind unless it has to be. Understand?"

"That sounds to me," purred the smaller man in the Western slang that
phrased incredulity. Then, suddenly, he foamed at the mouth. "Keep
out of this if you're squeamish. Let me play out the hand. I'll bump
him off _pronto_."

"No, Jess."

"What do you think I am?" screamed Tighe. "Seventeen years I've been
hog-tied to this house because of Beaudry. Think I'm going to miss my
chance now? If he was Moody and Sankey rolled into one, I'd go through
with it. And what is he--a spy come up here to gather evidence against
you