rns of it
through you--well, I'll forget you're my brother and treat you as
though you were--Fyles."

A sudden blaze of wrath flared up in the bigger man's eyes. But,
almost as it kindled, it died out and he laughed. However, when he
spoke there was no mirth in his voice.

"My God, Charlie," he cried, holding out his big hands, "I could
almost take you in these two hands and--and wring your foolish,
obstinate, wicked neck. You stand there talking blasted melodrama like
a born actor on the one-night stands. Your fool talk don't scare me a
little. What in the name of all that's sacred do you think I want to
send you to the penitentiary for? Haven't I come here to warn you?
Man, the rye whisky's turned you crazy. I'm here to help, help, do you
understand? Just four letters, 'help,' a verb which means 'support,'
not 'destroy.'"

Charlie's cold regard never wavered.

"When will you clear out of--my ranch?"

Bill started. The brothers' eyes met in a long and desperate exchange
of regard. Then the big man brought his fist down upon the high cantle
of his saddle with startling force.

"When I choose, not before," he cried fiercely. "Do you understand?
Here, you foolish man. I know what I'm up against. I know what you're
up against, and I tell you right here that if Fyles is going to hunt
you into the penitentiary he can hunt me, too. I'm not smart, like
you, on these crook games, but I'm determined that the man who lags
you will get it good and plenty. I sort of hate you, you foolish man.
I hate you and like you. You've got grit, and, by God, I like you for
it, and I don't stand to see you go down for any twenty years--alone.
If Fyles gets you that way, you're the last man he ever will get. Damn
you!"

Charlie drew a deep breath. It was a sigh of pent feeling. He averted
his gaze, and it wandered over the old corral inside which the wagon
with its hay-rack was still standing, though its position was changed
slightly. His eyes rested upon it, and passed on to the hut, about
which the birds were once more gathering. They paused for some silent
moments in this direction. Then they came back to the angry, waiting
brother.

"I wish you weren't such a blunderer, Bill," he said, and his manner
had become peevishly gentle. "Can't you see I've got to play my own
game in my own way? You don't know all that's back of my head. You
don't know a thing. All you know is that Fyles wants to send me down,
by way of cleaning up this v