ng his hair curled for him. Me, I play my own hand, by God; and I
don't care whether it's against Mr. Yeager or Mr. Farrar--or Mr.
Threewit. See?"

"Your pay is waiting for you, Harrison."

"What? How's that?" he snarled.

"You're discharged--no longer working for the Lunar Company."

Harrison's face became an apoplectic purple. He stood with clenched
fists glaring at the director, ready to explode with rage. It was a part
of his vanity that he had not supposed for an instant that Threewit
would let him go.

But it happened that the director had a temper of his own. He had chafed
long enough under the domineering ways of the ex-prizefighter. Moreover,
Harrison was no longer so essential to the company. Yeager was a far
better rider and could register more effectively the feats of
horsemanship that were a feature of the Lunar films. Billie Threewit had
known for some time that this man was an element of disorganization in
the company. Therefore he was letting him go.

Steve stood quietly in the background, one arm thrown carelessly across
the neck of his pony. But his gaze did not lift from the heavy, who
stood glaring at the director, his fingers working and head thrust low
on the deep chest so that the gorilla hunch was emphasized. The man's
black eyes snapped with a blazing fire that seemed ready to leap like a
crouched tiger.

"Through with me, are you? Going to use that grand-stander Yeager
instead, I reckon. That's the game, is it?"

"I'm not discussing my plans with you."

"Ain't you? Well, I'll discuss mine to this extent. I'll make you sick
of this day's work all right before I'm through with you. Get that?
Plumb sick." His eyes traveled around the half-circle till they met
those of Yeager. "You'll get yours too, my friend. Believe _me_. Get it
a-plenty. You're going to sweat blood when I git you hog-tied."

He turned away, flung himself on his horse, and dug the rowels into the
sides of the animal savagely.

Farrar laughed nervously. "Exit Mr. Chad Harrison, some annoyed."

Steve looked gravely at his employer. "Sorry you tied that can on him,
Mr. Threewit. He's not just the man I'd choose for an enemy if I was
picking one."

"Had to do it sometime. The sooner the quicker. Anyhow, he hasn't got it
in for me as much as he has for you."

Yeager shrugged. "Oh, me. That's different. 'Course he hates me
thorough, but I'm sorry you got mixed in it."

"What difference does it make? He can't hurt me