“Bill, he’s my pardner, but he’s not firin’ my hands,” spoke up Blaine, gazing up at the angry cowboy.

“All the same, I quit, Mr. Blaine. I wouldn’t be caught dead workin’ for anyone who can stand for Setter.”

“All right, Bill. Reckon I was independent once myself. I’m waitin’ to hear what you said was the straight of this mess.”

“Setter offered us boys a hundred dollars apiece to let him make you–all think Ben an’ his pards had pounded him up three to one. But it didn’t happen that way. Ben did it alone. He slugged Setter, an’ it shore was good to see.”

“Wal, what about?”

Sneed settled back in his saddle, with less belligerent air. Evidently it relieved him to see he was going to be heard.

“We got to Forlorn River along about noon,” began Sneed. “Ben Ide was home with his Indian, an’ he asked us to eat hospitable as anybody could be. Told us his pard was over at the lava beds, where they’d ketched a bunch of wild hosses. He an’ Modoc had been drivin’ some of them to Forlorn River every day. After havin’ grub we went out to look over the hosses. They shore was a purty lot. Ben must be a wonder with wild hosses. Setter had a fit over them. He got excited. An’ presently he up an’ said: ‘My pardner Blaine aims to buy you out, along with Sims an’ his neighbors, an’ you can throw them hosses in the bargain.’——Ben looked sort of queer an’ spoke up quiet–like that he wouldn’t sell. An’ as for Sims an’ his neighbors—they couldn’t sell because Ben had bought them out long ago.”

Sneed halted here long enough to laugh outright.

“Why, Mr. Blaine, it was funny the way Setter went up in the air. He just hopped, he was so mad. An’ when Ben had refused again cold an’ curt, Setter yelled: ‘You’ll sell out or be drove off!’—Ben wanted to know who’d undertake to do that little job. Setter swore by God he could an’ would. Then Ben said as it was a free country, an’ he’d proved up on his own ranch an’ paid for the others, he didn’t see how he could be drove off. Then Setter said, ‘You know damn right well this hoss–wranglin’ of yours is only a bluff—a blind’.”

Here Sneed paused again, his frank steely–blue eyes fixed upon Blaine’s intent face, and as if to augment the suspense he shifted a leg over the pommel of his saddle. Ina thrilled at the power she felt he held in the dénouement of his story. He was enjoying the telling.

“Spit it out,” growled Blaine, clenching his big fist. No doubt he knew before being told.

“Ben got kinda white,” resumed Sneed, “an’ he stepped close to Setter, an’ he asked, very cuttin’, ‘What do you mean by bluff an’ blind?’ … Then Setter said, ‘Ide, you better take Blaine’s offer an’ clear out.’ …Ben roared, ‘No, I tell you. An’ I’m callin’ your bluff.’ … Setter got black in the face an’ yelled: ‘We’re on to your shady deals!’