h himself until the spasm passed.

When he got back to his men, Blinky had just returned.

"Did you see them shakin' up the dust?" queried Blinky.

"Yes, they're gone. Reckon we've no more to fear from them."

"Huh! We never had nothin'. Shore was a yellow outfit. They set fire
to our fence, the ---- ---- ----!"

It took some effort for Pan to approach his father. The feeling deep
within him was inexplicable. But, then, he had never before been
compelled to face his father after a fight. Pan's relation to him
seemed of long ago.

"How are you, Dad?" he asked with constraint.

"Little shaky--I guess--son," came the husky reply. But Smith got up
and removed his hand from the bloody wound on his forehead. It was
more of a bruise than a cut, but the flesh was broken and swollen.

"Nasty bump, Dad. I'll bet you'll have a headache. Go to camp and
bathe it in cold water. Then get Juan to bandage it."

"All right," replied his father. He forced himself to look up at Pan.
His eyes were warming out of deep strange shadows of pain, of horror.
"Son, I--I was kind of dazed when--when you--the fight come off.... I
heard the shots, but I didn't see... Was it you who--who killed Jard
Hardman?"

"No, Dad," replied Pan, placing a steady hand on his father's shoulder.
Indeed he seemed more than physically shaken. "But I meant to."

"Then how--who?--" choked Smith.

"Mac New shot him," replied Pan, hurriedly. "Hardman accused him of
double-crossing me. Mac called him. I think Hardman tried to draw.
But Mac killed him.... I got Purcell too late to save Mac."

"Awful!" replied Smith, hoarsely.

"Pan, I seen Purcell's eyes," spoke up Blinky. "Shore he meant to drop
Mac an' you in two shots. But he wasn't quite previous enough."

"I was--too slow myself," rejoined Pan haltingly. "Mac New was an
outlaw, but he was white compared to Hardman."

"Wal, it's all over. Let's kinda get set back in our saddles," drawled
Blinky. "What'll we do with them stiffs?"

"By George, that's a stumper," replied Pan, sitting down in the shade.

"Huh! Reckon you figger we ought to pack them back to Marco an' give
them church services," said Blinky, in disgust. "Jest a couple of
two-bit rustlers!"

"Somebody will come out here after their bodies, surely. Dick Hardman
would want to--"

"Mebbe someone will, but not thet hombre," declared Blinky. "But I'm
gamblin' Hardman's outfit won't break their necks tellin' aboo