at little matter; that damned sheriff don't know anything
about it. If Sullivan's satisfied to have me here and give me his
girl, that's enough for you."

"You don't want Joan," said Mackenzie, speaking slowly, "you only want
what's conditioned on taking her. So you'd just as well make a
revision in your plans right now, Reid. You and Sullivan can get
together on it and do what you please, but Joan must be left out of
your calculations. I realize that I owe you a good deal, but I'm not
going to turn Joan over to you to square the debt. You can have my
money any day you want it--you can have my life if you ever have to
draw on me that far--but you can't have Joan."

Mackenzie walked away from Reid at the conclusion of this speech,
which was of unprecedented length for him, and of such earnestness
that Reid was not likely to forget it soon, no matter for its length.
The dogs left Reid to follow him.

That Reid had been fraternizing with Swan Carlson, Mackenzie felt
certain, drinking the night out with him in his camp. Carlson had a
notoriety for his addiction to drink, along with his other unsavory
traits. With Reid going off in two different directions from him,
Mackenzie saw trouble ahead between them growing fast. More than
likely one of them would have to leave the range to avoid a clash at
no distant day, for Reid was in an ugly mood. Loneliness, liquor,
discontent, native meanness, and a desire to add to the fame in the
sheep country that the killing of Matt Hall had brought him, would
whirl the weak fellow to his destruction at no distant day.

Yet Reid had stood by him like a man in that fight with Matt Hall,
when he could have sought safety in withdrawal and left him to his
unhappy end. There was something coming to him on that account which a
man could not repudiate or ignore. Whatever might rise between them,
Mackenzie would owe his life to Reid. Given the opportunity, he stood
ready and anxious to square the debt by a like service, and between
men a thing like that could not be paid in any other way.

Reid remained a while sitting on the hilltop where Mackenzie had found
him, face in his hands, as before. After a time he stretched out and
went to sleep, the ardent sun of noonday frying the lees of Swan
Carlson's whisky out of him. Toward three o'clock he roused, got his
horse, saddled it, and rode away.

Mackenzie believed he was going to hunt more whisky, and went to the
rise of a ridge to see what cou