good natured babble came a harsh word. Instantly the other voices
ceased, and the men of the group centered their glances upon the range
boss, for the harsh word had come from him. He had been talking to a
man named Tucson and it was to the latter that he had now spoken.

"There's a heap of rattlers in this country," he had said.

Evidently the statement was irrelevant, for Tucson's glance at
Leviatt's face was uncomprehending. But Leviatt did not wait for an
answer.

"A man might easily claim to have been bit by one of them," he
continued, his voice falling coldly.

The men of the group sat in a tense silence, trying to penetrate this
mystery that had suddenly silenced their talk. Steady eyes searched
out each face in an endeavor to discover the man at whom the range boss
was talking. They did not discover him. Ferguson stood near Leviatt,
an arm's length distant, his hands on his hips. Perhaps his eyes were
more alert than those of the other men, his lips in a straighter line.
But apparently he knew no more of this mystery than any of the others.

And now Leviatt's voice rose again, insolent, carrying an unmistakable
personal application.

"Stafford hires a stray-man," he said, sneering. "This man claims to
have been bit by a rattler an' lays up over night in Ben Radford's
cabin--makin' love to Mary Radford."

Ferguson turned his head slightly, surveying the range boss with a
cold, alert eye.

"A little while ago," he said evenly, "I heard a man inside tellin'
about some of the boys learnin' their lessons from a girl over on Bear
Flat. I reckon, Leviatt, that you've been over there to learn your'n.
An' now you've got to let these boys know----!"

Just a rustle it was--a snake-like motion. And then Ferguson's gun was
out; its cold muzzle pressed deep into the pit of Leviatt's stomach,
and Ferguson's left hand was pinning Leviatt's right to his side, the
range boss's hand still wrapped around the butt of his half-drawn
weapon. Then came Ferguson's voice again, dry, filled with a quiet
earnestness:

"I ain't goin' to hurt you--you're still tenderfoot with a gun. I just
wanted to show these boys that you're a false alarm. I reckon they
know that now."

Leviatt sneered. There was a movement behind Ferguson. Tucson's gun
was half way out of its holster. And then arose Rope's voice as his
weapon came out and menaced Tucson.

"Three in this game would make it odd, Tucson," he said quietly. "If