ld shoot."

De Spain's expression did not change under the reproach. His bronzed
face was naturally amiable, and his mental attitude toward ill luck,
usually one of indifference, was rarely more than one of perplexity.
His features were so regular as to contribute to this undisturbed
expression, and his face would not ordinarily attract attention but
for his extremely bright and alive eyes--the frequent mark of an
out-of-door mountain life--and especially for a red birthmark, low on
his left cheek, disappearing under the turn of the jaw. It was merely
a strawberry, so-called, but an ineradicable stamp, and perhaps to a
less preoccupied man a misfortune. Henry de Spain, however, even at
twenty-eight, was too absorbed in many things to give thought to this
often, and after knowing him, one forgot about the birthmark in the
man that carried it. Lefever's reproach was naturally provocative. "I
hope now," retorted de Spain, but without any show of resentment, "you
understand I can't."

"No," persisted Lefever good-naturedly, "I only realize, Henry, that
this wasn't your day for the job."

The door of the outer office opened and Jeffries, the superintendent,
walked into the room; he had just come from Medicine Bend in his car.
The two men rose to greet him. He asked about the noise in the
street.

"That noise, William, comes from all Calabasas and all Morgan's
Gap," explained Lefever, still fondling the rifle. "The Morgans
are celebrating our defeat. They put it all over us. We were
challenged yesterday," he continued in response to the abrupt
questions of Jeffries. "The Morgans offered to shoot us offhand,
two hundred yards, bull's-eye count. The boys here--Bob Scott and some
of the stage-guards--put it up to me. I thought we could trim them by
running in a real gunman. I wired to Medicine Bend for Henry. Henry
comes up last night with a brand-new rifle, presented, I imagine,
by the Medicine Bend Black Hand Local, No. 13. This is the gun,"
explained Lefever feebly, holding forth the exhibit. "The lever," he
added with a patient expletive, "broke."

"Give me the gun, John," interposed de Spain resignedly. "I'll lay it
on the track to-night for a train to run over."

"It was a time limit, you understand, William," persisted Lefever,
continuing to stick pins calmly into de Spain. "Henry got to shooting
too fast."

"That wasn't what beat me," exclaimed de Spain curtly. And taking up
the offending rifle he walked out of