fact--perhaps the proximity of death. But he was no coward.
Despite the hunter's order, given as he stood there, gun drawn and
ready, Folsom wheeled back again, savagely to throw the deck of cards in
Belllounds's face. He cursed horribly.... "You spoiled brat of a rich
rancher! Why'n hell didn't you tell me thet varmint-hunter was Wade."

"I did tell you," shouted Belllounds, flaming of face.

"You're a liar! You never said Wade--W-a-d-e, right out, so I'd hear it.
An' I'd never passed by Hell-Bent Wade."

"Aw, that name made me tired," replied Belllounds, contemptuously.

"Haw! Haw! Haw!" bawled the rustler. "Made you tired, hey? Think you're
funny? Wal, if you knowed how many men thet name's made tired--an' tired
fer keeps--you'd not think it so damn funny."

"Say, what're you giving me? That Sheriff Burley tried to tell me and
dad a lot of rot about this Wade. Why, he's only a little, bow-legged,
big-nosed meddler--a man with a woman's voice--a sneaking cook and
camp-doctor and cow-milker, and God only knows what else."

"Boy, you're correct. God only knows what else!... It's the _else_
you've got to learn. An' I'll gamble you'll learn it.... Wade, have you
changed or grown old thet you let a pup like this yap such talk?"

"Well, Cap, he's very amusin' just now, an' I want you-all to enjoy him.
Because, if you don't force my hand I'm goin' to tell you some
interestin' stuff about this Buster Jack.... Now, will you be quiet an'
listen--an' answer for your pards?"

"Wade, I answer fer no man. But, so far as I've noticed, my pards ain't
hankerin' to make any loud noise," Folsom replied, indicating his
comrades, with sarcasm.

The red-bearded one, a man of large frame and gaunt face, wicked and
wild-looking, spoke out, "Say, Smith, or whatever the hell's yore right
handle--is this hyar a game we're playin'?"

"I reckon. An' if you turn a trick you'll be damn lucky," growled
Folsom.

The other rustler did not speak. He was small, swarthy-faced, with
sloe-black eyes and matted hair, evidently a white man with Mexican
blood. Keen, strung, furtive, he kept motionless, awaiting events.

"Buster Jack, these new pards of yours are low-down rustlers, an' one of
them's worse, as I could prove," said Wade, "but compared with you
they're all gentlemen."

Belllounds leered. But he was losing his bravado. Something began to
dawn upon his obtuse consciousness.

"What do I care for you or your gabby talk?" he flashed,