nd, poured out some liquor, set the bottle down,
and lifted the glass. He had his drink. His tension relaxed.

"Sort of quiet this morning," he said.

"Reckon it is, just now," replied the bartender, significantly.

"Is this Sunday?" went on Pan casually.

"No. Yestiddy was Sunday, so this must be Monday."

"Reckon I might as well move along," remarked Pan, but he did not stir.
The bartender went on cleaning glasses. Sounds of footsteps came from
outside. Presently Pan walked back through the open door, then halted
a moment, to light another cigarette. His back was turned to the bar
and the doors. That seemed the climax of his effrontery. It was
deliberate, the utter recklessness of the cowboy who had been trained
in a hard school. But all that happened was the silence breaking to a
gay wild sweet voice: "Call again, cowboy, when there's somebody home!"

Louise had been watching him through some secret peephole. That had
been her tribute to him and her scorn of his opponents. It about
closed the incident, Pan concluded. Men were now coming along the
street in both directions, though not yet close. Some wag yelled from
a distance: "Thar ain't no sheriff, Panhandle."

Pan retraced his steps up the street, finding, as before, a clear
passage. Men hailed him from doorways, from windows, from behind
obstructions. He did not need to be told that they were with him.
Marco had been treated to precisely what it wanted. Pan was quick to
grasp the mood of these residents who had been so keen about his
endeavor to draw out Hardman and Matthews. That hour saw the beginning
of the end for these dominant factors in the evil doings of Marco.
What deep gratification it afforded Pan! They might thrive for a time,
but their heyday had passed. Matthews would be the laughing stock of
the town. He could never retrieve. He had been proclaimed only
another in the long list of self-appointed officers of the law.

By the time Pan got back to camp his mood actually harmonized with his
leisurely, free and careless movements. Still he was hiding something,
for he wanted to yell. Blinky saw him coming and yelled for him.

The cowboy was beside himself with a frenzy of delight. It had been
hard for him to stay there in camp. He cursed radiantly.

"How's the pack job? All done?" queried Pan, when he could get a word
in.

"Pack hell! We plumb forgot," replied Blinky. "What you
think--you--you--"

Blinky failed