hing down the
road toward them. He was heavy-set and unwieldy, and he wore a wrinkled
suit of butternut jeans.

The eyes of the cattleman chilled. "You go into the house, 'Mona. That
fellow's Pete Dinsmore. I don't want you to meet him."

"Don't you, Dad?" The heart of the girl fluttered at sight of this man
who had nearly killed her father, but it was not fear but anger that
burned in her eyes. "I'm going to sit right here. What does he want?
He's not coming--to make trouble, is he?"

"No. We've got business to settle. You run along in."

"I know what your business is. It's--about Ford."

He looked at her in surprised dismay. "Who told you that, honey?"

"I'll tell you about that after he's gone. I want to stay, Dad, to show
him that I know all about it, and that we're not going to let him carry
out any blackmailing scheme against us."

Dinsmore nodded grouchily as he came up the walk to the house. Wadley
did not ask him to sit down, and since there were no unoccupied chairs
the rustler remained standing.

"I got to have a talk with you, Clint," the outlaw said. "Send yore girl
into the house."

"She'll listen to anything you have to say, Dinsmore. Get through with
it soon as you can, an' hit the trail," said the cattleman curtly.

The other man flushed darkly. "You talk mighty biggity these days. I
remember when you wasn't nothin' but a busted line-rider."

"Mebbeso. And before that I was a soldier in the army while you was
doin' guerrilla jayhawkin'."

"Go ahead. Say anything you've a mind to, Clint. I'll make you pay
before I'm through with you," answered the bad-man venomously.

"You will if you can; I know that. You're a bad lot, Dinsmore, you an'
yore whole outfit. I'm glad Ellison an' his Rangers are goin' to clear
you out of the country. A sure-enough good riddance, if any one asks
me."

The cattleman looked hard at him. He too had been a fighting man, but it
was not his reputation for gameness that restrained the ruffian. Wadley
was a notch too high for him. He could kill another bad-man or some
drunken loafer and get away with it. But he had seen the sentiment of
the country when his brother had wounded the cattleman. It would not do
to go too far. Times were changing in the Panhandle. Henceforth
lawlessness would have to travel by night and work under cover. With the
coming of the Rangers, men who favored law were more outspoken. Dinsmore
noticed that they deferred less to him, partly, no do