ing out of his brooding
like a man stepping into the sun. He laughed, pulling his hat down on
the bridge of his nose in the peculiar way he had of wearing it. A
little while he sat; then stretched himself back at ease on his elbow,
drooling smoke through his nose in saturnine enjoyment.

"Sullivan will double-cross you in the end, Jack; he'll not even give
you Mary," Reid said, speaking lazily, neither derision nor banter in
his way.

"Maybe," Mackenzie returned indifferently.

"He'd double-cross me after I'd put in three years runnin' his damned
sheep if it wasn't for the old man's money. Tim Sullivan would pick
dimes off a red-hot griddle in hell as long as the devil would stand
by and heat them. He's usin' his girls for bait to draw greenhorns and
work their fool heads off on promises. A man that would do that would
sell his wife."

Mackenzie made no comment. He was through his dinner and was filling
his pipe, mixing some of Dad Frazer's highly recommended twist with
his own mild leaf to give it a kick.

"He played you into the game with Joan for a bait, and then I got
shipped out here and spoiled that," said Reid. "Now he's stringin' you
on for Mary. If you're as wise a guy as I take you to be, Jack,
you'll cut this dump and strike out in business for yourself. There's
a feller over east of Carlson wants to sell out--you can get him on
the run."

"I couldn't buy one side of a sheep," Mackenzie replied, wondering why
this sudden streak of friendly chatter.

Mackenzie ground Dad's twist in his palm, poured a charge of his pale
mixture into it, ground them again together under the heel of his
fist, Reid looking on with languid eyes, hat down on his nose.

"What did you do with that roll you used to carry around out here?"
Reid inquired, watching the compounding of the tobacco.

"It was a mighty little one, Earl," Mackenzie returned, laughing
pleasantly.

_"It's big enough for me--hand it over!"_

Reid flipped his gun from the scabbard, his elbow pressed close to his
side as he reclined in the lazy, inoffensive pose, holding the weapon
down on Mackenzie with a jerk which he must have practiced long to
give it the admirable finish and speed.

CHAPTER XXVI

PAYMENT ON ACCOUNT

Mackenzie raised his eyes slowly from his task of blending tobacco,
looked for a moment into Reid's determined face, remembering with a
falling heart that he had taken his own revolver off and hung it in
the wagon when he