seemed to pay no attention to the words, and swinging from the
saddle, threw an arm over the horn, and surveyed the outfit with a
sneering grin: "Saved up enough to start you an outfit of yer own, eh?
You ought to done pretty good tendin' bar for six years, with what you
got paid, an' what you could knock down. Go to it! I'm for you. The
better you do, the better I'll like it."

"What I've saved, I've earnt," replied Cinnabar evenly.

"Oh, sure--a man earns all he gits--no matter how he gits it. Even if
it's shootin' up his old pals an' grabbin' off the reward."

Cinnabar's face went a shade paler, but he made no reply and the other
turned to Jennie. "You go to the house--me an' Cinnabar wants to make
medicine."

"You go to the devil!" flashed the girl. "Who do you think you are
anyhow? Tryin' to order me around on my own ranch! If you've got
anything to say, just you go ahead an' spit it out--don't mind me."

"Kind of sassy, ain't you? If you was mine, I'd of took that out of you
before this--or I'd of broke you in two."

"If I was yourn!" cried the girl contemptuously, "if you was the last
man in the world, I'd of et wolf poison before I'd be'n seen on the
street with you. I've got your number. I didn't work in the hotel at
Wolf River as long as I did, not to be onto your curves. You're a nasty
dirty low-down skunk--an' that's the best can be said about you! Now, I
guess you know how you stand around here. Shoot off what you got to say,
an' then take your dirty hide off this ranch an' don't come back!"

"I guess Cinnabar won't say that," sneered the man, white with rage,
"you don't hear him orderin' me off the place, do you--an' you won't
neither. What I've got on him'll hold you for a while. You're holdin'
yer nose high--now. But, you wait--you'll pay fer them words you said
when the time comes--_an' you'll pay my way!_"

Jennie's face went suddenly white and Cinnabar Joe stepped forward, his
eyes narrowed to slits: "Shut up!" he said, evenly, "or I'll kill you."

Purdy glanced into the narrowed eyes of the ex-bartender, and his own
glance fell. Cinnabar Joe was a man to be reckoned with. Purdy had seen
that peculiar squint leap into the man's eyes once or twice before--and
each time a man had died--swiftly, and neatly. The horse-thief laughed,
uneasily: "I was only jokin'. What do I care what the women say? Come on
over here a piece, an' I'll tell you what I want. You asked me if there
was anything you cou