avily:

"I fought him fair an' he licked me. Think I'm the kind of a she-man
as stands for you guys buttin' in on my fight? Stand back an' let him
go!"

"Blenham said--" screamed Hodges.

"Damn Blenham an' you, too," growled Woods. "It's my fight an' his.
Let him go!"

They let him go, drawing apart slowly. With watchful eyes Steve passed
down the little lane they made. At the door he turned, saying briefly:

"I'll see you in the morning, Woods!"

Then he went out.

CHAPTER X

A RIDE WITH TERRY

Returning at once to the Old Trusty, on the way passing Terry's car
which still stood in front of the store, Steve Packard asked for the
use of a telephone. Whitey nodded toward the office, a little room
thinly partitioned off from the larger. A moment later Barbee's voice
was answering from Ranch Number Ten.

"He's on the way, Barbee," said Steve quickly. "Left Red Creek just a
few minutes ago. I'll trail him. Give him the chance to prowl around
a little; try and find what he's after. But don't let him get away
with it! Understand? Shoot the legs out from under him if you have
to. I'll give you a month's pay for the night's work if you nail him
with the goods on."

Clicking up the receiver he went out on the street again, giving no
heed to the many glances which followed him. They knew who he was;
they were speculating on him. "Ol' man Packard's gran'son," he heard
one man say.

In the thick darkness lying under the poplar tree it was several
minutes before he was certain that his horse was gone. He had tethered
the animal himself; there was no dangling bit of rope to indicate a
broken tie-rope. Blenham, the practical, had simply taken thought of
detail.

"Not missing a single bet, is Blenham," he thought savagely.

He swung about and reentered the saloon. A buzz of talk up and down
the long room promptly died away as again the eyes of many men
travelled his way. It struck him that they had all been talking of
him; he knew that they must have marked those signs which Joe Woods's
fists had left on his face; he stood a moment looking in on them,
conscious for the first time of his rapidly swelling right eye, seeking
to estimate what these men made of him.

It seemed to him that the one emotion he glimpsed on all hands and in
varying degrees, was distrust. Little cause for surprise there: he was
a Packard and this was not the Packard side of Red Creek.

"Somebody's put me on foot,"