got here," he said; "I've been expecting you."

"I've been notin' that. That guy you left at the edge of the level to
keep an eye on the Rancho Seco didn't cover his tracks. I run onto
them--an' I saw him hittin' the breeze--comin' here. I reckon nobody is
surprised." Harlan grinned widely.

"So you noticed that," said Haydon, answering Harlan's grin. "Well, I
don't mind admitting that we've kept an eye on you. You've had me
guessing."

Haydon's manner was that of the man who is careful not to say too much,
his constraint was of the quality that hints of a desire to become
confidential--a smooth, bland courtesy; a flattering voice--encouraging,
suggesting frankness.

Harlan's manner was that of a certain reckless carelessness. He seemed to
be perfectly at ease, confident, deliberate, and unwatchful. He knew
Haydon was an outlaw; that the men who had been grouped in front of the
bunkhouse were members of Haydon's band; he knew the man who had escorted
him to the Star had been deliberately stationed in the timber to watch
for him. And he had no doubt that other outlaws had lain concealed along
the trail to observe his movements.

He knew, too, that he had placed himself in a precarious predicament--that
his life was in danger, and that he must be exceedingly careful.

Yet outwardly he was cool, composed. With Haydon's eyes upon him he drew
a chair to a point near the desk, seated himself in it, drew out paper
and tobacco, and rolled a cigarette. Lighting it, he puffed slowly,
watching while Haydon dropped into the chair he had vacated at Harlan's
appearance.

When Haydon dropped into his chair he grinned admiringly at Harlan.

"You're a cool one, Harlan," he said; "I've got to say that for you. But
there's no use in four-flushing. You've come here to tell me something
about the chain. Where did you find it?"

"At Sentinel Rock--not far from where you plugged Lane Morgan."

"You're assuming that I shot Morgan?" charged Haydon.

"Morgan was assumin', too, I reckon," grinned Harlan. "He told me it was
you who shot him--he saw your face by the flash of your gun. An' he told
me where to look for the chain--him not knowin' it was a chain--but
somethin'."

Haydon's eyes gleamed with a cold rage--which he concealed by passing a
hand over his forehead, veiling his eyes from Harlan. His lips were
wreathed in a smile.

"Why didn't you tell me that the other day--the first time I met you?"

Harlan laughed. "I was ha