think, if I wanted _you_, I would send a message
for you to come out and meet me? Not on your life! When I want you
I'll come to your shack and drag you out by the hair of the head. Sit
down!" roared Whispering Smith.

Rebstock, who weighed at least two hundred and seventy-five pounds,
had lifted himself up to glare and swear freely. Now he dropped
angrily back into his chair. "Well, who do you want?" he bellowed in
kind.

A smile softened the asperity of the railroad man's face. "That's a
fair question and I give you a straight answer. I'm not bluffing: I
want Du Sang."

Rebstock squirmed. He swore with shortened breath that he knew nothing
about Du Sang; that Du Sang had stolen his cattle; that hanging was
too good for him; that he would join any _posse_ in searching for him;
and that he had not seen him for three months.

"Likely enough," assented Whispering Smith, "but this is wasting time.
He rode in here last night after killing old Dan Baggs. Your estimable
nephew Barney is with him, and Karg is with him, and I want them; but,
in especial and particular, I want Du Sang."

Rebstock denied, protested, wheezed, and stormed, but Whispering Smith
was immovable. He would not stir from the Cache upon any promises.
Rebstock offered to surrender any one else in the Cache--hinted
strongly at two different men for whom handsome rewards were out; but
every compromise suggested was met with the same good-natured words:
"I want Du Sang."

At last the smile changed on Whispering Smith's face. It lighted his
eyes still, but with a different expression. "See here, Rebstock, you
and I have always got along, haven't we? I've no desire to crowd any
man to the wall that is a man. Now I am going to tell you the simple
truth. Du Sang has got you scared to death. That man is a faker,
Rebstock. Because he kills men right and left without any provocation,
you think he is dangerous. He isn't; there are a dozen men in the
Cache just as good with a gun as Du Sang is. Don't shake your head. I
know what I'm talking about. He is a jay with a gun, and you may tell
him I said so; do you hear? Tell him to come out if he wants me to
demonstrate it. He has got everybody, including you, scared to death.
Now, I say, don't be silly. I want Du Sang."

Rebstock rose to his feet solemnly and pointed his finger at
Whispering Smith. "Whispering Smith, you know me--"

"I know you for a fat rascal."

"That's all right. You know me, and, just as y