ugh to back it up. There's the gate."

Corliss mounted and wheeled his horse. The girl, who stood beside her
father, started forward as though to speak to the rancher. Loring
seized her arm. Her face flamed and she turned on her father. "Dad!
Let me go!"

He shrunk beneath her steady gaze. He released her arm and she stepped
up to Corliss. "I'm sorry, John," she said, and offered her hand.

"You heard it all, Nell. I'd do anything to save you all this, if I
could."

"Anything?"

"Yes."

"Well, try and get Will--to--stop drinking. He--I heard all about it.
I can't do anything to help. You ought to look after him. He's your
brother. He's telling folks in Antelope that you refused to help him.
Is that so?"

"I refused to give him two hundred dollars to blow in if that's what
you mean."

"Did you quarrel with Will?"

"No. I asked him to come home. I knew he wouldn't."

"Yes. And I think I know how you went at it. I wish I could talk to
him."

"I wish you would. You can do more with him than anybody."

Loring strode toward Corliss. The girl turned to her father. He
raised his arm and pointed toward the road. "You git!" he said. She
reached up and patted his grizzled cheek. Then she clung to him,
sobbing.

CHAPTER VIII

AT "THE LAST CHANCE"

The afternoon following the day of his discharge from the Concho,
Fadeaway rode into Antelope, tied his pony to the hitching-rail in
front of "The Last Chance," and entered the saloon. Several men loafed
at the bar. The cowboy, known as "a good spender when flush," was made
welcome. He said nothing about being out of employment, craftily
anticipating the possibility of having to ask for credit later, as he
had but a half-month's pay with him. He was discussing the probability
of early rains with a companion when Will Corliss entered the place.

Fadeaway greeted him with loud, counterfeit heartiness, and they drank
together. Their talk centered on the Concho. Gradually they drew away
from the group at the bar. Finally Corliss mentioned his brother.
Fadeaway at once became taciturn.

Corliss noticed this and questioned the puncher. "Had a row with
Jack?" he asked.

"Between you and me, I did. He fired me, couple of days ago."

"Full?"

"Nope. Chance killed one of Loring's sheep. John hung it onto me,
seein' Chance was with me. Guess John's gettin' religion."

Corliss laughed, and his lips twisted to a sneer. "Guess he is