"Who said he was sick?" growled Meldrum.

"Didn't you-all say he was good as dead?"

"A man can change his mind, Chet, can't he?" jeered Hart.

The blotched face of the bad man grew purple. "That'll be about enough
from both of you. But I'll say this: when I get ready to settle with
Mr. Beaudry you can order his coffin."

Nevertheless, Meldrum had the humiliating sense that he had failed to
live up to his reputation as a killer. He had promised Battle Butte to
give it something to talk about, but he had not meant to let the
whisper pass that he was a four-flusher. His natural recourse was to
further libations. These made for a sullen, ingrowing rage as the day
grew older.

More than one well-meaning citizen carried to Roy the superfluous
warning that Meldrum was in town and drinking hard. The young man
thanked them quietly without comment. His reticence gave the
impression of strength.

But Beaudry felt far from easy in mind. A good deal of water had
flowed under the Big Creek bridge since the time when he had looked
under the bed at nights for burglars. He had schooled himself not to
yield to the impulses of his rabbit heart, but the unexpected clatter
of hoofs still set his pulses a-flutter. Why had fate snatched so
gentle a youth from his law desk and flung him into such turbid waters
to sink or swim? All he had asked was peace--friends, books, a quiet
life. By some ironic quirk be found himself in scenes of battle and
turmoil. As the son of John Beaudry he was expected to show an
unflawed nerve, whereas his eager desire was to run away and hide.

He resisted the first panicky incitement to fly back to the Lazy Double
D, and went doggedly about the business that had brought him to Battle
Butte. Roy had come to meet a cattle-buyer from Denver and the man had
wired that he would be in on the next train. Meanwhile Beaudry had to
see the blacksmith, the feed-store manager, the station agent, and
several others.

This kept him so busy that he reached the Station only just in time to
meet the incoming train. He introduced himself to the buyer, captured
his suitcase, and turned to lead the way to the rig.

Meldrum lurched forward to intercept him. "Shus' a moment."

Roy went white. He knew the crisis was upon him. The right hand of
the hillman was hidden under the breast of his coat. Even the
cattle-buyer from Denver knew what was in that hand and edged toward
the train. For this ruffian was