me punchers on a holiday played cards at various
tables, quietly drinking. Behind the rough bar Pete Moulin, the proprietor
stood, talking to his bartender, Blacky.

"So that jasper's back again," commented the proprietor.

"Which?" The bartender followed the proprietor's gaze, which was on a man
seated at a card table, his profile toward them, playing cards with
several other men. The bartender's face showed perplexity.

Moulin laughed. "I forgot you ain't been here that long," he said. "That
was before your time. That fellow settin' sideways to us is Texas
Blanca."

"What's he callin' himself 'Texas' for?" queried the bartender. "He looks
more like a greaser."

"Breed, I reckon," offered the proprietor. "Claims to have punched cows in
Texas before he come here."

"What's he allowin' to be now?"

"Nobody knows. Used to own the Star--Dakota's brand. Sold out to Dakota
five years ago. Country got too hot for him an' he had to pull his
freight."

"Rustler?"

"You've said something. He's been suspected of it. But nobody's talkin'
very loud about it."

"Not safe?"

"Not safe. He's lightning with a six. Got his nerve to come back here,
though."

"How's that?"

"Ain't you heard about it? I thought everybody'd heard about that deal.
Blanca sold Dakota the Star. Then he pulled his freight immediate. A week
or so later Duncan, of the Double R, rides up to Dakota's shack with a
bunch of Double R boys an' accuses Dakota of rustlin' Double R cattle.
Duncan had found twenty Double R calves runnin' with the Star cattle which
had been marked secret. Blanca had run his iron on them an' sold them to
Dakota for Star stock. Dakota showed Duncan his bill of sale, all regular,
an' of course Duncan couldn't blame him. But there was some hard words
passed between Duncan an' Dakota, an' Dakota ain't allowin' they're
particular friends since.

"Dakota had to give up the calves, sure enough, an' he did. But sore!
Dakota was sure some disturbed in his mind. He didn't show it much, bein'
one of them quiet kind, but he says to me one day not long after Duncan
had got the calves back: 'I've been stung, Pete,' he says, soft an' even
like; 'I've been stung proper, by that damned oiler. Not that I'm carin'
for the money end of it; Duncan findin' them calves with my stock has
damaged my reputation.' Then he laffed--one of them little short laffs
which he gets off sometimes when things don't just suit him--the way he's
laffed a couple