comfort of a realization which in that
first surprise and terror had escaped him. It was not to his enemy's
first interest to goad him into a mortal clash, since that would make it
impossible to give a favourable answer to the leaders to-morrow--and
incidentally it would be almost certain to mean Thornton's own death.

Now he straightened up with a ghost of renewed bravado and shook his
head while an enigmatical grin twisted his lips.

"S'posin'," he made insolent suggestion, "I don't see fit ter do nuther
one ner t'other? S'posin' I jest tells ye ter go ter hell?"

Parish had anticipated that question and was prepared, if he were forced
so far, to back threat with execution.

"I aims ter _make_ ye fight--or agree--either one," he answered, evenly,
and when Bas laughed at him he stepped forward and, with lightning
quickness, struck the other squarely across the face.

Though the blow fell open-handed it brought blood from the nose and
spurts of insane fury from the eyes.

Rowlett still kept his arms down, but he lunged and sought to drive his
knee to his adversary's groin, meaning to draw and fire during the
moment of paralyzing pain that must ensue.

As it happened, though, Parish had also anticipated some such
manoeuvre of foul fighting, and he sprung aside in time to let the
unbalanced Rowlett pitch stumblingly forward. When he straightened he
was again looking into the muzzle of a drawn pistol.

Rowlett had been drawing his own weapon as he lunged, but now he dropped
it as if it had scalded his fingers, and once more hastily raised his
hands above his head.

The whole byplay was swift to such timing as belongs to sleight-of-hand,
but the split-second quickness of the left-hander was as conclusively
victorious as if the matter had been deliberate, and now he had margin
to realize that he need not fire--for the present.

"Ef ye'd been jest a mite quicker in drawin', Bas," he declared,
ironically, "or jest a mite tardier in throwin' down thet gun--I'd hev
hed ter kill ye. Now we kin talk some more."

The conflict of wills was over and Rowlett's voice changed to a whine as
he asked beseechingly: "What proof hev I got ye won't show ther paper
ter some outsider afore we fights hit out?"

"Ye've got my pledge," answered Thornton, disdainfully, "an' albeit ye
knows ye don't keep 'em yoreself, ye knows thet I don't nuver break 'em.
Ye've got ther knowledge, moreover, thet I hain't a-goin' ter be content
save t