business."

He waited until Ferguson had dropped one gun. And then, knowing that
the stray-man usually wore two weapons, he continued sharply: "I'm
waiting for the other one."

Ferguson laughed. "Then you'll be waitin' a long time. There ain't
any 'other one. Broke a spring yesterday an' sent it over to Cimarron
to get it fixed up. You c'n have it when it comes back," he added with
a touch of sarcasm, "if you're carin' to wait that long."

Radford did not reply, but came around to Ferguson's left side and
peered at the holster. It was empty. Then he looked carefully at the
stray-man's waist for signs that a weapon might have been concealed
between the waist-band and the trousers--in front. Then, apparently
satisfied, he stepped back, his lips closed grimly.

"Get off your horse," he ordered.

Ferguson laughed as he swung down. "Anything to oblige a friend," he
said, mockingly.

The two men were now not over a yard apart, and at Ferguson's word
Radford's face became inflamed with wrath. "I don't think I'm a friend
of yours," he sneered coldly; "I ain't making friends with every damned
sneak that crawls around the country, aiming to shoot a man in the
back." He raised his voice, bitter with sarcasm. "You're thinking
that you're pretty slick," he said; "that all you have to do in this
country is to hang around till you get a man where you want him and
then bore him. But you've got to the end of your rope. You ain't
going to shoot anyone around here.

"I'm giving you a chance to say what you've got to say and then I'm
going to fill you full of lead and plant you over in the cottonwood--in
a place where no one will ever be able to find you--not even Stafford.
I'd have shot you off your horse when you come around the bend," he
continued coldly, "but I wanted you to know who was doing it and that
the man that did it knowed what you come here to do." He poised his
pistol menacingly. "You got anything to say?" he inquired.

Ferguson looked steadily from the muzzle of the poised weapon to
Radford's frowning eyes. Then he smiled grimly.

"Some one's been talkin'," he said evenly. He calmly crossed his arms
over his chest, the right hand slipping carelessly under the left side
of his vest. Then he rocked slowly back and forth on his heels and
toes. "Someone's been tellin' you a pack of lies," he added. "I
reckon you've wondered, if I was goin' to shoot you in the back, that I
ain't done it long ago.