stance from any of its rival settlements, even drawn apart as though
distrustfully from its own railroad station which baked and blistered
in the sun a good half-mile to the west. Grown up here haphazardly
long before the "Gap" had been won through by the "iron trail," it
ignored the beckoning of the glistening rails and refused to extend
itself toward the traffic artery.

More than all this, Red Creek gave the impression, not in the least
incorrect, of falling apart into two watchful sections which eyed each
other suspiciously, being cynically and unsociably inclined. Its main
street was as wide as Van Ness Avenue and down the middle of it, like a
border line between two hostile camps, sprawled a stream which shared
its name with the town.

The banks here and there were the brick-red of a soil whose chief
mineral was iron; here and there were screened by willows. There were
two insecure-looking bridges across which men went infrequently.

For the spirit which had brooded over the birth of Red Creek when a
sheepman from the north and a cow-man from the south had set their
shacks opposite each other, lived on now; long after the old feuds were
dead and the whole of the grazing lands had been won over to the cattle
raisers, a new basis for quarrels had offered itself at Red Creek's
need.

Much of this Steve Packard knew, since it was so in his time, before he
had gone wandering; much he had learned from Barbee in a long talk with
him before riding the twenty-five miles into the village. Old Man
Packard had drawn to himself a host of retainers since his interests
were big, his hired-men many, his wages generous. And, throughout the
countryside across which he cast his shadow, he had cultivated and
grown a goodly crop of enemies, men with whom he had contended, men
whom he had branded sweepingly as liars and thieves and cutthroats, men
whose mortgages he had taken, men whom, in the big game which he
played, he had broken. The northern half of Red Creek was usually and
significantly known as Packard's Town; the southern half sold liquor
and merchandise, offered food and lodging, to men who harbored few
friendly feelings for Packard's "crowd."

Hence, in Red Creek were two saloons, confronting each other across the
red scar of the creek; two stores, two lunch-counters, two blacksmith
shops, each eying its rival jealously. At this time the post-office
had been secured by the Packard faction; the opposition snorted