hing swift and hot through his veins; his mind working
feverishly. One man alone against the crowd of them, he could do
nothing. But he could ride back to the ranch, gather up a dozen men,
put guns into their hands, be back here in the matter of a couple of
hours.

He saw the timberjacks as one by one they came out into the clearing by
the cook's shack; counted them as they went in. The thought of a
morning cup of coffee was attracting them; among the faces turned
briefly his way he recognized several he had seen last night in the Ace
of Diamonds saloon. He saw two of them hitching up the big wagon,
evidently the only conveyance in the camp. They were getting ready to
take Blenham.

Suddenly a new light flashed into Steve's eyes; he turned his head
abruptly that Joe Woods should not see.

"How many men have you got here, Woods?" he asked.

Wondering at the question Woods answered it:

"Fourteen; startin' a new camp across the ridge."

Steve had counted nine men go into the cook's shed; with the cook there
were ten; the two with the horses made twelve. There should be two
more. He waited. Meanwhile, secretly so that Woods might not guess
what he was doing or see the busy hand, he loosened his latigo, seeming
merely to slouch in his saddle; while he made a half-dozen random
remarks which set Woods wondering still further, he got his cinch
loose. Another man had gone into the kitchen. Thirteen.

"Fourteen counting you?" he asked Woods.

"Yes."

Then they were all accounted for; two with the horses; eleven in the
shed; Joe Woods in front of him.

"My cinch is loose," said Packard and dismounted, throwing the stirrup
up across the saddle out of his way, his fingers going to the latigo
which he had just loosened.

Woods watched him idly. Then suddenly both men looked toward the
kitchen. The door had been slammed shut; there was a fairly hideous
racket as of all of the cook's pots and pans falling together; after it
a boom of laughter, and finally the cook's voice lifted querulously.
Woods grinned. Unruffled by Packard's presence he said casually:

"Cookie mos' usually has the hell of a head after a night like las'
night. The boys knows it an' has a little fun with him!"

The two men harnessing the horses had evidently guessed as did Woods
what was happening in the cook's domain; at any rate, they hastily tied
the horses and hurried to see. Packard, still busied with his latigo,
saw them and wat