ering at
Trevison. The big man's face had been attended to, but it was swollen
frightfully, and his smashed lips were in a horrible pout. Trevison
grinned at him, but it was to the banker that he spoke.

"I want my gun, Braman," he said, shortly.

The banker took it out of a drawer and silently shoved it across the
counter and through a little opening in the wire netting. The banker
watched, fearingly, as Trevison shoved the weapon into its holster.
Corrigan stolidly followed his movements.

The gun in its holster, Trevison leaned toward the banker.

"I always knew you weren't straight, Braman. But we won't quarrel about
that now. I just want you to know that when this arm of mine is right
again, we'll try to square things between us. Broom handles will be barred
that day."

Braman was silent and uneasy as he watched Trevison reach into a pocket
and withdraw a leather bill-book. From this he took a paper and tossed it
in through the opening of the wire netting.

"Cash it," he directed. "It's about the matter we were discussing when we
were interrupted by our bloodthirsty friend, there."

He looked at Corrigan while Braman examined the paper, his eyes alight
with the mocking, unfearing gleam that had been in them during the fight.
Corrigan scowled and Trevison grinned at him--the indomitable, mirthless
grin of the reckless fighting man; and Corrigan filled his lungs slowly,
watching him with half-closed eyes. It was as though both knew that a
distant day would bring another clash between them.

Braman fingered the paper uncertainly, and looked at Corrigan.

"I suppose this is all regular?" he said. "You ought to know something
about it--it's a check from the railroad company for the right-of-way
through Mr. Trevison's land."

Corrigan's eyes brightened as he examined the check. They filled with a
hard, sinister light.

"No," he said; "it isn't regular." He took the check from Braman and
deliberately tore it into small pieces, scattering them on the floor at
his feet. He smiled vindictively, settling back into his chair. "'Brand'
Trevison, eh?" he said. "Well, Mr. Trevison, the railroad company isn't
ready to close with you."

Trevison had watched the destruction of the check without the quiver of an
eyelash. A faint, ironic smile curved the corners of his mouth as Corrigan
concluded.

"I see," he said quietly. "You were not man enough to beat me a little
while ago--even with the help of Braman's broom. Yo