ffed into the place and accepted the Ranger's invitation
to take a drink.

"What makes you so gaunted, Jack? You look right peaked," he commented
as they waited for their drinks.

"Scared stiff, Jumbo. I hear two wild an' woolly bad-men are after me.
One is a tall, lopsided, cock-eyed rooster, an' the other is a
hammered-down sawed-off runt. They sure have got me good an' scared.
I've been runnin' ever since I heard they were in town."

Gurley gulped down his drink and turned toward the door hastily. "Come,
let's go, Overstreet. I got to see a man."

The Texan and the Coloradoan looked at each other with steel-cold eyes.
They measured each other in deadly silence, and while one might have
counted twenty the shadow of death hovered over the room. Then
Overstreet made his choice. The bragging had all been done by Gurley. He
could save his face without putting up a fight.

"Funny how some folks are all blown up by a little luck," he sneered,
and he followed his friend to the street.

"You got 'em buffaloed sure, Jack. Tell me how you do it," demanded
Jumbo with a fat grin.

"I'm the law, Jumbo."

"Go tell that to the Mexicans, son. What do you reckon a killer like
Overstreet cares for the law? He figured you might down him before he
could gun you--didn't want to risk an even break with you."

The Ranger poured his untasted liquor into the spittoon and settled the
bill. "Think I'll drop around to the Silver Dollar an' see if my birds
have lit again."

At the Silver Dollar Jack found his friend the ex-Confederate doing
business with another cattleman.

"I'd call that a sorry-lookin' lot, Winters," he was saying. "I know a
jackpot bunch of cows when I see 'em. They look to me like they been
fed on short grass an' shin-oak." His face lighted at sight of the
Ranger. "Hello, brindle-haid! Didn't know you was in town."

The quick eye of the officer had swept over the place and found the two
men he wanted sitting inconspicuously at a small table.

"I'm not here for long, Sam. Two genuwine blown-in-the-bottle bad-men
are after my scalp. They're runnin' me outa town. Seen anything of 'em?
They belong to the Dinsmore outfit."

The old soldier looked at him with a sudden startled expression. He knew
well what men were sitting against the wall a few steps from him. This
was talk that might have to be backed by a six-shooter. Bullets were
likely to be flying soon.

"You don't look to me like you're hittin' yore heels