ble scorn. He grunted
his words with such an intonation of insult that it would have been
pardonable to shoot him on the spot. Lambert was slow to kindle. He put
a curb now on even his naturally deliberate vehicle of wrath, looking
the man through his shallow eyes down to the roots of his mean soul.

"You're the feller that's come here to teach us fellers to take off our
hats when we see a fence," Hargus said, looking meaner with every
breath.

"You've got it right, pardner," Lambert calmly replied.

"Duke of Chimney Butte! Well, pardner, I'm the King of Hotfoot Valley,
and I've got travelin' papers for you right here!"

"You seem to be a little sudden about it," Lambert said, a lazy drawl to
his words that inflamed Hargus like a blow.

"Not half as sudden as you'll be, kid. This country ain't no place for
you, young feller; you're too fresh to keep in this hot climate, and the
longer you stay the hotter it gits. I'll give you just two days to make
your gitaway in."

"Consider the two days up," said Lambert with such calm and such
coolness of head that men who heard him felt a thrill of admiration.

"This ain't no joke!" Hargus corrected him.

"I believe you, Hargus. As far as it concerns me, I'm just as far from
this country right now as I'll be in two days, or maybe two years.
Consider your limit up."

It was so still in the barroom that one could have heard a match burn.
Lambert had drawn himself up stiff and straight before Hargus, and stood
facing him with defiance in every line of his stern, strong face.

"I've give you your rope," Hargus said, feeling that he had been called
to show his hand in an open manner that was not his style, and playing
for a footing to save his face. "If you ain't gone in two days you'll
settle with me."

"That goes with me, Hargus. It's your move."

Lambert turned, contempt in his courageous bearing, and walked out of
the place, scorning to throw a glance behind to see whether Hargus came
after him, or whether he laid hand to his weapon in the treachery that
Lambert had read in his eyes.

CHAPTER XV

WOLVES OF THE RANGE

Lambert left his horse at the saloon hitching-rack while he went to the
store. Business was brisk in that place, also, requiring a wait of half
an hour before his turn came. In a short time thereafter he completed
his purchases, tied his package to his saddle, and was ready to go home.

The sound of revelry was going forward again in the salo