lling. He had no earthly use for me, and besides that he
and I had some trouble a week before over a two-year-old. So when he
rode up I knew there was going to be more trouble, and I was dead right.

"He didn't give me much chance to explain, and he didn't get off his
horse. He damned me for a liar and a rustler, and suddenly he reached
down and grabbed the barrel of my rifle with both hands. I've often
wished I had let him take it, but by that time he was so damned mad that
I wasn't going to let him have a gun, and I was pretty hot myself. So I
hung onto it and tried to twist it out of his hands. Then his horse
started to back. I was dragged along, holding to the gun, and my hold
slipped. I swear I don't know how it happened, unless my slipping hand
lifted the hammer, but anyway the rifle went off.

"He let go then, and his horse bolted. I didn't know he was badly hurt,
because he was riding all right. In fact I wasn't sure he was hit at
all. That was the last I saw of him. My own horse was frightened by the
shot and it took me some time to catch him. I rode two or three miles
looking for your father, but I was afraid that would lead to more
trouble, because I thought the first thing he would do would be to
organize himself with a gun. So I went home and kept my mouth shut. The
next day I heard he was dead. That's all. And there's your gun. If you
feel like playing even, go to it."

But Angus as he listened knew that Gavin French was telling the exact
truth. He could visualize the tragedy of that bygone day of his boyhood.
His father's actions, as related by Gavin, were in exact keeping with
his character. But in the end, though convinced that Gavin had fired
with intent to kill, he had died in grim silence rather than leave to
his son a heritage of hate and revenge.

"I believe it happened as you say it did," he said. "There is nothing to
play even for."

The big man sighed deeply. "It's not every man who would believe it," he
said; "but it's true. I know I should have come forward and told how it
was, then, but I had only my own word. If your father had told anybody
about the two-year-old and the words we had had, it would have been bad.
So I just kept quiet."

"How did Braden know?"

"From Tenas Pete. I believe that Siwash shot the steer himself and saw
what happened. Braden told me the Indian had told him the whole thing.
That was a year after, and Pete had broken his neck with a bad cayuse.
Braden tried to