e paled. "Referrin' to Pickett, I reckon, ma'am?" he said.

"Yes." She flung the monosyllable back at him resentfully.

She felt him ride close to her, and she looked at him and saw that his
face was grimly serious.

"I ain't been thinkin' of the killin' of Pickett as murder, ma'am.
Pickett had it comin' to him. You was standin' on the porch, an' I reckon
you used your eyes. If you did, you saw Pickett try to pull his gun on me
when my back was turned. It was either him or me, ma'am."

"You anticipated that he would try to shoot you," she charged. "Your
actions showed that."

"Why, I reckon I did. You see, I've knowed Pickett for a long time."

"I was watching you from an upstairs window," she went on. "I saw you
when you struck Pickett with your fist. You drew your pistol while he was
on the ground. You had the advantage--you might have taken his pistol
away from him, and prevented any further trouble. Instead, you allowed
him to keep it. You expected he would try to shoot you, and you
deliberately gave him an opportunity, relying upon your quickness in
getting your own pistol out."

"I give him his chance, ma'am."

"His chance." There was derision in her voice. "I have talked to some of
the men about you. They say you are the cleverest of any man in this
vicinity with a weapon. You deliberately planned to kill him!"

He rode on, silently, a glint of cold humor in his eyes. He might now
have confounded her with the story of Masten's connection with the
affair, but he had no intention of telling her. Masten had struck the
blow at him--Masten it must be, who would be struck back.

However, he was disturbed over her attitude. He did not want her to think
that he had killed Pickett in pure wantonness, for he had not thought of
shooting the man until Uncle Jepson had warned him.

"I've got to tell you this, ma'am," he said, riding close to her. "One
man's life is as good as another's in this country. But it ain't any
better. The law's too far away to monkey with--law like you're used to.
The gun a man carries is the only law anyone here pays any attention to.
Every man knows it. Nobody makes any mistakes about it, unless it's when
they don't get their gun out quick enough. An' that's the man's fault
that pulls the gun. There ain't no officials to do any guardin' out here;
you've got to do it yourself or it don't get done. A man can't take too
many chances--an' live to tell about it. When you know a man's lookin'