rdy ran for some water, he remembered Tommy. But there
was no Tommy--only a little heap of fur lying very still out in the
open.

"My God!" he cried, and leaving the man he ran out and knelt down
beside it.

"Pussy!" he whispered, feeling hopelessly for his heart; and then,
gathering the forlorn little wisp of fur in his arms, he hurried into
the house without a word.

He was still in hiding when Jasper Swope came to and sat up, his hair
drenched with water and matted with dirt. Staring doubtfully at the
set face of Hardy he staggered to his feet; then the memory of the
fight came back to him and he glared at him with a drunkard's
insolence.

"Where's my gun?" he demanded, suddenly clapping his hand upon the
empty holster.

"I'll take care of that for you," answered Hardy pointedly. "Now you
pile onto that mule of yours and pull your freight, will you?" He led
the black mule up close and boosted its master into the saddle, but
Swope was not content.

"Where's that dastard, Jeff Creede?" he demanded. "Well, I wanter see
him, that's all. And say, Mr. Smart Alec, I want that gun, too, see?"

"Well, you won't get it," said Hardy.

"I will that," declared Swope, "'nd I'll git you, too, Willie, before
I git through with you. I've had enough of this monkey business. Now
gimme that gun, I tell ye, or I'll come back with more of 'em and take
it!"

He raised his voice to a roar, muffled to a beast-like hoarseness by
his swollen jaws, and the _ramada_ reverberated like a cavern as he
bellowed out his challenge. Then the door was snatched violently open
and Jefferson Creede stepped forth, looking black as hell itself. In
one hand he held the sheepman's pistol and in the other his own.

"Here!" he said, and striding forward he thrust Swope's gun into his
hand. "It's loaded, too," he added. "Now, you--if you've got any
shootin' to do, go to it!"

He stepped back quickly and stood ready, his masterful eyes bent upon
his enemy in a scowl of unquenchable hate. Once before they had faced
each other, waiting for that mysterious psychic prompting without
which neither man nor beast can begin a fight, and Jim had stepped in
between--but Hardy stood aside without a word. It was a show-down and,
bulldog fighter though he was, Jasper Swope weakened. The anger of his
enemy overcame his hostile spirit without a blow, and he turned his
pistol away.

"That's all I wanted," he said, shoving the gun sullenly into its
holster. "They