n-keeper. "I'm sorry the order's so small," he said, with
a laugh.

"You can make it one bigger," grinned Silas, and Promptly held out his
hand.

The two men gripped.

"Thanks," murmured Jim. And at the same instant Smallbones' offensive
voice broke in.

"A real elegant scene," he sneered. "Most touchin'. Sort o' mothers'
meetin'." But in a second his tone changed to a furious rasp. "But
don't you mistake, Jim Thorpe; three drinks ain't buyin' you clear. If
you're the honest man you say, you'll hev to prove it. There's the
cattle with your brand on 'em. Whose hand set it on? Who keeps that
brand? Who runs his stock in hidin' up in the hills? Them's the
questions we're all astin', an' it's up to you to answer 'em right. Ef
you don't, then----" he finished with a suggestive motion of hanging.

But Jim had had enough. A moment of blind fury seized upon him, and he
swung round on his accuser. The heavy rawhide quirt hanging on his
wrist was raised aloft threateningly, and his eyes were the eyes of a
man at the limit of endurance.

"Another word from you and I'll flay you alive with this quirt," he
cried. "You've had your say, and now, I guess, I'll have mine. You
know just as much as all the rest of the folk here; no more and no
less. No more and no less than I do. When you or anybody else gets
definite proof that I'm a cattle-thief you are at liberty to talk,
but, until then, if I hear you, or of you, publicly charging me with
cattle stealing, I'll smash you, if I swing for it. Get right out,
now. Get right out, quick!"

Smallbones stood for a moment glaring at the threatening man. His
teeth were bared in a tigerish grin. He was the picture of ferocity,
but, as Jim took a step toward him, his dark face white with passion,
he dropped back and finally made for the door.

But the turn of fortune's wheel was still against Jim. For
Smallbones, the situation was saved by the advent of Doc Crombie. That
redoubtable man pushed his way in through the swing doors and promptly
hailed him back.

"Hold on, Smallbones," he cried, "I've a word for you fellows. How
many are there here?" He glanced round the bar swiftly, and finally
his eyes rested on Jim Thorpe.

"Ah!" He paused, while he mentally estimated the prevailing feeling.
Then he addressed himself to Silas behind the bar. "You'll help the
boys to drinks," he said. Then, pointedly, "All of 'em." After that,
he turned to Jim. "Jest in from the 'AZ's'?" he inquired cas