e West--that's the way they do it.
One man hold off a hunderd with his gun--and on the other hand, a
hunderd men, mebby, ridin' hell-whoopin' after one. You think that's
it--that's the way they do it. Hunh!" He lifted the lid of the stove,
spat into it as if he were spitting in the face of an enemy, and turned
again to Lorraine.

"What you seen--what you say you seen--that was done at night when
there wasn't no audience. All the fighting the Sawtooth does is done
under cover. _You_ won't see none of it--they ain't such fools. And
what us small fellers do, we do it quiet, too. We ain't ridin' up and
down the trail, flourishin' our six-shooters and yellin' to the
Sawtooth to come on and we'll clean 'em up!"

"But you're fighting just the same, aren't you, dad? You're not
letting them----"

"We're makin' out to live here--and we've been doin' it for twenty-five
year," Brit told her, with a certain grim dignity. "We've still got a
few head uh stock left--enough to live on. Playin' poker with a
nickel, mebby--but we manage to ante, every hand so fur." His mind
returned to the grisly thing Lorraine had seen.

"We can't run down the man that got Fred Thurman, supposin' he was
killed, as you say. That's what the law is paid to do. If Lone Morgan
told you not to talk about it, he told you right. He was talking for
your own good. What about Al--the man from Whisper? You didn't tell
_him_, did you?"

His tone, the suppressed violence of his manner, frightened Lorraine.
She moved farther away from him.

"I didn't tell him anything. He was curious but--I only said I knew
him because he was wearing a brown hat, and the man that shot Mr
Thurman had a brown hat. I didn't say all that. I just mentioned the
hat. And he said there were lots of brown hats in the country. He
said he had traded for that one, just yesterday. He said his own hat
was gray."

Brit stared at her, his jaw sagging a little, his eyes growing vacant
with the thoughts he hid deep in his mind. He slumped down into his
chair and leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees, his fingers
clasped loosely. After a little he tilted his head and looked up at
her.

"You better go to bed," he told Her stolidly. "And if you're going to
live at the Quirt, Raine, you'll have to learn to keep your mouth shut.
I ain't blaming you--but you told too much to Al Woodruff. Don't talk
to him no more, if he comes here when I'm gone." He put out a hand